By  Elizabeth  J^ent 


Who? 
The  House  Opposite 


"  Here,  quick,  I  hear  footsteps  on  the  stairs ! 

From  the  drawing  by  John  Cassel 


(Chapter  XX) 


Who? 


By 

Elizabeth  Kent 

Author  of  "  The  House  Opposite,"  etc. 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

Cbe   fmfcfcerbocfter    press 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  igi2 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


tTbc  fmfcfcerbocfeer  press,  flew  )i?orfe 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  WOMAN  IN  THE  COMPARTMENT    .      1 

II.  "  MRS.  PETER  THOMPKINS  "  .        .        .14 

III.  THE  TRIBULATIONS  OP  A  LIAR      •  „   •     .29 

IV.  ON  THE  SCENE  OF  THE  TRAGEDY           .    42 

V.  THE  DETECTIVE  DETECTS       .        .        .64 

VI.  THE  MYSTERIOUS  MAID  .        .        .        .81 

VII.     THE  INQUEST 96 

VIII.     LADY  UPTON Ill 

IX.  THE  JEWELS  .        .        .        .        .        .122 

X.  THE  Two  FRENCHMEN  ....  142 

XI.  THE  INSPECTOR  INTERVIEWS  CYRIL      .  165 

XII.  A  PERILOUS  VENTURE    ....  177 

XIII.  CAMPBELL  REMONSTRATES      .        .         .  203 

XIV.  WHAT  Is  THE  TRUTH?  .                          .  219 


2136S55 


iv  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV.  FINGER  PRINTS  IN  THE  DUST  .  .  251 

XVI.  THE  STORY  OP  A  WRONG      .  .  .264 

XVII.  GUY  RELENTS 274 

XVIII.  A  SLIP  OF  THE  TONGUE        .  .  .284 

XIX.  AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR      .  .  .  298 

XX.  "  I  KNOW  IT,  COUSIN  CYRIL  "  .  .  318 

XXI.  THE  TRUTH  .        .        .        .  .  .330 

XXII.  CAMPBELL  RESIGNS                .  .  .  352 


Who? 


WHO? 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  WOMAN  IN  THE  COMPARTMENT 

IT  was  six  o'clock  on  a  raw  October  morning, 
and  the  cross  Channel  boat  had  just  deposited 
its  cargo  of  pale  and  dishevelled  passengers  at 
Newhaven.  Cyril  Crichton,  having  seen  his  ser- 
vant place  his  bags  in  a  first-class  compartment, 
gazed  gloomily  at  the  scene  before  him. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  three  years  that  he 
had  set  foot  on  his  native  shore  and  the  occa- 
sion seemed  invested  with  a  certain  solemnity. 

"  What  a  mess  I  have  made  of  my  life !  Yet 
God  knows  I  meant  well !  "  He  muttered  in  his 
heart.  "  If  I  had  n't  been  such  a  good-natured 
ass,  I  should  never  have  got  into  all  this 
trouble.  But  I  won't  be  made  a  fool  of  any 


2  Who? 

longer.  I  will  consult  Campbell  as  to  what — " 
He  paused.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
he  had  forgotten  to  let  the  latter  know  of  his 
impending  arrival.  "  I  will  send  him  a  wire," 
he  decided. 

The  telegraph-office  was  farther  off  than  he 
expected,  and  to  Crichton's  disgust,  he  found  it 
shut.  He  had  forgotten  that  in  well-regulated 
England,  even  matters  of  life  and  death  have 
to  wait  till  the  offices  open  at  eight  A.M. 

He  was  still  staring  at  the  closed  window, 
when  he  was  startled  by  the  guard's  whistle, 
and  the  slamming  of  the  carriage  doors.  Turning 
quickly,  he  ran  back,  trying  to  find  his  com- 
partment, but  it  was  too  late;  the  train  was 
already  moving.  Flinging  off  a  porter's  detain- 
ing hand,  he  jumped  on  to  fce  foot-board  and 
wrenched  open  the  nearest  door.  The  impetus 
flung  him  headlong  into  the  lap  of  a  lady, — the 
sole  occupant  of  the  carriage.  To  his  horror 
and  amazement,  instead  of  listening  to  his 
apologies,  she  uttered  a  piercing  shriek  and  fell 
forward  into  his  arms.  For  a  moment  Crichton 
was  too  dazed  to  move.  There  he  knelt,  tightly 
clasping  her  limp  form  and  wondering  fearfully 


The  Woman  in  the  Compartment      3 

what  would  happen  next.  At  last  he  managed 
to  pull  himself  together,  and  staggering  to  his 
feet,  laid  her  gently  on  the  seat  near  the  win- 
dow. Strangely  enough,  he  had  had  no  idea, 
so  far,  as  to  the  appearance,  or  even  the  age,  of 
the  lady  with  whom  fate  had  thrown  him  into 
such  intimate  contact:  consequently  he  now 
looked  at  her  with  considerable  curiosity.  Her 
slight,  graceful  figure  proclaimed  her  youth,  but 
her  face  wa&  completely  concealed  by  a  thick, 
black  veil,  which  prevented  him  from  so  much 
as  guessing  the  outline  of  her  features.  As  she 
continued  to  show  no  sign  of  returning  con- 
sciousness, Crichton  looked  helplessly  around  for 
some  means  of  reviving  her.  More  air  was  what 
she  needed;  so  with  much  trepidation  he  decided 
to  unfasten  her  veil.  His  fingers  fumbled  clum- 
sily over  their  unaccustomed  task,  but  finally  the 
last  knot  was  disentangled,  the  last  pin  extracted. 
The  unknown  proved  to  be  even  younger  than 
he  expected,  and  to  possess  beauty  of  the  kind 
which  admits  of  no  discussion.  At  present,  how- 
ever, it  was  sadly  marred  by  a  red  welt,  probably 
the  result  of  a  fall,  Crichton  decided,  which  dis- 
figured her  left  cheek.  A  minute  before  he  had 


4  Who? 

been  cursing  his  luck,  which  invariably  landed 
him  in  strange  adventures,  but  at  the  sight  of 
her  beauty,  our  hero  suddenly  ceased  to  find  the 
situation  annoying.  His  interest,  however,  in- 
creased his  alarm.  What  if  she  were  dead  or 
dying?  Heart  attacks  were  not  uncommon. 
Bending  over  her,  he  laid  his  hand  on  her  heart, 
and  as  he  did  so,  the  long  lashes  lifted,  and  a 
pair  of  sapphire  blue  eyes  looked  straight  into 
his.  Before  he  had  time  to  move,  she  threw  out 
both  hands  and  cried :  "  Oh,  let  me  go !  " 

"  Don't  be  alarmed.  Notwithstanding  my  un- 
ceremonious entrance,  I  assure  you,  I  am  a  per- 
fectly respectable  member  of  society.  My  name 
is  Crichton." 

The  girl  staggered  to  her  feet.  "Crichton?" 
she  gasped. 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  Crichton.  Do  you  know  any  member 
of  my  family  by  any  chance?  My  cousin,  Lord 
Wilmersley,  has  a  place  near  here." 

"  No,"  she  faltered,  "  I — I  am  quite  a  stranger 
in  this  part  of  the  country." 

He  was  sure  she  was  lying,  but  what  could  be 
her  object  in  doing  so?  And  why  had  his  name 


The  Woman  in  the  Compartment      <5 

caused  her  such  alarm?  What  unpleasant  con- 
nection could  she  possibly  have  with  it?  The 
only  male  members  of  his  family  who  bore  it, 
were,  a  curate,  serving  his  probation  in  the  East 
End  of  London,  and  a  boy  at  Eton. 

"  That  is  a  pity,"  he  said.  "  I  hoped  we  might 
find  some  mutual  friends  who  would  vouch  for 
my  inoffensiveness.  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry 
I  am  to  have  given  you  such  a  fright.  It  was 
unpardonably  stupid  of  me.  The  fact  is,  I  am 
rather  absent-minded,  and  I  should  have  been 
left  behind  if  I  had  not  tumbled  in  on  you  as 
I  did.  Please  forgive  me." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  I  who  should  apologise 
to  you  for  having  made  such  a  fuss  about  nothing. 
You  must  have  thought  me  quite  mad."  She 
laughed  nervously. 

"  Madam,"  lie  replied,  with  mock  solemnity, 
"  I  assure  you  I  never  for  a  moment  doubted 
your  sanity,  and  I  am  an  expert  in  such 
matters." 

"  Are  you  really?  "  She  shrank  farther  from 
him. 

"Really  what?"  he  inquired,  considerably 
puzzled. 


6  Who? 

"  A — a  brain  specialist?  That  is  what  they 
are  called,  is  n't  it?  " 

He  laughed  heartily. 

"  No,  indeed.     But  you  said " 

"  Of  course !     How  stupid  of  me !  " 

"  Why  should  you  know  that  I  am  a  soldier?  " 

She  blushed  vividly.  "  You  don't  look  like  a 
civilian." 

"  At  all  events  I  hope  I  don't  look  like  the 
keeper  of  an  insane  asylum." 

"  No,  indeed.     But  you  said " 

"  Oh,  as  to  being  an  expert.  Was  that  it?  I 
must  plead  guilty  to  having  attempted  a  feeble 
joke,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  so  happened 
that  I  do  know  something  about  lunatics." 

"  Are  n't  you  dreadfully  afraid  of  them?  " 

"  On  general  principles,  of  course,  I  am  afraid 
of  nothing,  but  I  fancy  a  full-grown  lunatic,  with 
a  carving  knife  and  a  hankering  for  my  blood, 
would  have  a  different  tale  to  tell." 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  them !  "  She  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hands. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Why  should  you  beg  my  pardon  ?  "  she  asked 
looking  at  him  suspiciously. 


The  Woman  in  the  Compartment      7 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  he  acknowledged. 

"  I  know  that  I  am  behaving  like  a  hysterical 
schoolgirl.  What  must  you  think  of  me !  But, 
— but  I  am  just  recovering  from  an  illness  and 
am  still  very  nervous,  and  the  mere  mention  of 
lunatics  always  upsets  me.  I  have  the  greatest 
horror  of  them." 

"  Poor  child,  she  must  have  been  through 
some  terrible  experience  with  one,"  thought 
Crichton. 

"  I  trust  you  may  never  meet  any,"  he  said 
aloud. 

"  I  don't  intend  to."  She  spoke  with  unex- 
pected vehemence. 

"  Well,  there  is  not  much  chance  of  your  doing 
so.  Certified  lunatics  find  it  pretty  difficult  to 
mingle  in  general  society." 

"  I  know — oh,  I  know — "  Her  voice  sounded 
almost  regretful. 

What  an  extraordinary  girl!  Could  it  be — 
was  it  possible  that  she  herself — but  no,  her  be- 
haviour was  certainly  strange  and  she  seemed 
hysterical,  but  mad — no,  and  yet  that  would 
explain  everything. 

"  I    am    sure    it    was    the    horrid    crossing 


8  Who? 

which  upset  you — as  much  as  anything  else," 
he  said. 

"  I  did  n't  cross,  I — "  She  stopped  abruptly, 
and  bit  her  lip. 

It  was  quite  obvious  that  for  some  reason  or 
other,  she  had  not  wished  him  to  know  that  she 
had  got  in  at  Newhaven.  He  knew  that  polite- 
ness demanded  he  should  not  pursue  a  subject 
which  was  evidently  distasteful  to  her.  But  his 
curiosity  overcame  his  scruples. 

"  Really?  It  is  rather  unusual  to  take  this 
train  unless  one  is  coming  from  the  continent." 

"  Yes.  One  has  to  start  so  frightfully  early. 
I  had  to  get  up  a  little  before  five."  That  meant 
she  must  live  in  Newhaven,  and  not  far  from 
the  station  at  that — but  was  it  true?  She  had 
about  her  that  indescribable  something  which 
only  those  possess  whose  social  position  has 
never  been  questioned.  No,  Newhaven  did  not 
seem  the  background  for  her.  But  then,  had  she 
not  herself  told  him  that  she  did  not  live  there? 
She  might  have  gone  there  on  an  errand  of 
charity  or —  After  all,  what  business  was  it 
of  his?  Why  should  he  attempt  to  pry  into  her 
life?  It  was  abominable. 


The  Woman  in  the  Compartment      9 

She  settled  herself  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage, 
and  he  fancied  that  she  wished  to  avoid  further 
conversation.  Serve  him  jolly  well  right,  he 
thought. 

During  the  rest  of  the  journey  his  behaviour 
was  almost  ostentatiously  discreet.  If  she  feared 
that  he  was  likely  to  take  advantage  of  the  situa- 
tion, he  was  determined  to  show  her  that  he  had 
no  intention  of  doing  so.  To  avoid  staring  at 
her  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  rapidly  chang- 
ing landscape;  but  they  might  have  been  sud- 
denly transported  to  China  without  his  observing 
the  difference.  In  fact,  he  had  not  realised  that 
they  were  nearing  their  destination,  till  he  saw 
his  companion  readjust  her  veil.  A  few  minutes 
later  the  train  stopped  at  Hearne  Hill. 

Crichton  put  his  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  There  is  something  up,"  he  said,  a  mo- 
ment later  turning  to  her.  "  There  must  be  a 
criminal  on  board.  There  are  a  lot  of  police- 
men about,  and  they  seem  to  be  searching  the 
train.'' 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do ! "  she  cried,  starting 
to  her  feet. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  " 


io  Who? 

"  They  will  shut  me  up.  Oh,  save  me — save 
me!" 

For  a  moment  he  was  too  startled  to  speak. 

Was  it  possible?  This  girl  a  criminal — a 
thief?  He  could  n't  believe  it. 

"  But  what  have  you  done?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing  I  assure  you.  Oh,  believe 
me,  it  is  all  a  mistake." 

He  looked  at  her  again.  Innocent  or  guilty, 
he  would  stand  by  her. 

"  They  will  be  here  directly,"  he  said.  "  Have 
you  enough  self-control  to  remain  perfectly  calm 
and  to  back  up  any  story  I  tell?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Sit  down  then,  and  appear  to  be  talking  to 
me." 

"  Tickets,  please."  The  guard  was  at  the  door, 
and  behind  him  stood  a  police  inspector. 

Crichton  having  given  up  his  ticket,  turned  to 
the  girl  and  said :  "  You  have  your  ticket, 
Amy." 

She  handed  it  over. 

"  From  Newhaven,  I  see."  The  inspector 
stepped  forward: 

"  1  must  ask  the  lady  to  lift  'er  veil,  please." 


The  Woman  in  the  Compartment    1 1 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  man?  Are  you 
drunk? 

"  Steady,  sir.    Do  you  know  this  lady?  " 

"  This  lady  happens  to  be  my  wife,  so  you  will 
kindly  explain  your  extraordinary  behaviour." 

The  inspector  looked  a  little  nonplussed. 

"  Sorry  to  hinconvenience  you,  sir,  but  we  'ave 
orders  to  search  this  train  for  a  young  lady  who 
got  in  at  Newhaven.  Now  this  is  the  only  lady 
on  board  whose  ticket  was  not  taken  in  Paris. 
So  you  see  we  have  got  to  make  sure  that  this 
is  not  the  person  we  want." 

"  But,  man  alive,  I  tell  you  this  lady  is  my 
wife." 

"  So  you  say,  sir,  but  you  can't  prove  it,  can 
you,  now?  You  're  registered  through  from 
Paris,  and  this  lady  gets  in  at  Newhaven.  How 
do  you  explain  that?  " 

"  Of  course,  one  does  n't  travel  about  with 
one's  marriage  certificate — but  as  it  happens,  I 
can  prove  that  this  lady  is  my  wife.  Here  is 
my  passport;  kindly  examine  it.  Mrs.  Crichton 
returned  to  England  several  months  ago,  and 
went  down  to  Newhaven  last  night  so  as  to  be 
able  to  meet  me  this  morning.  As  to  lifting  her 


12  Who? 

veil,  of  course  she  has  no  objection  to  doing  so. 
I  thought  it  idle  curiosity  on  your  part,  but  as 
it  is  a  question  of  duty,  that  alters  the  case 
completely." 

"  Thank  you,  sir."  The  inspector  opened  the 
passport  and  read  aloud.  "  Cyril  Crichton — 
Lieutenant  in  the — Rifles,  age  27  years,  height 
6  ft.,  1  inch,  weight  12  stone.  Hair — fair;  com- 
plexion— fair,  inclined  to  be  ruddy.  Eyes — blue. 
Nose — straight,  rather  short.  Mouth — large.  Dis- 
tinguishing marks:  cleft  in  chin."  And  as  he 
read  each  item,  he  paused  to  compare  the  written 
description  with  the  original. 

"  Well,  that 's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  And  now 
for  the  lady's.  Will  you  kindly  lift  your  veil, 
m'm?" 

"  To  Crichton's  surprise,  the  girl  did  so  quite 
calmly,  and  her  face,  although  deadly  pale,  was 
perfectly  composed. 

The  inspector  read :  "  Amy  Crichton,  wife  of 
Cyril  Crichton,  age — 26  years — H'm  that  seems 
a  bit  old  for  the  lady." 

The  girl  blushed  vividly,  but  to  Crichton's  in- 
finite relief  she  smiled  gaily,  and  with  a  slight 
bow  to  the  inspector  said :  "  You  flatter  me." 


The  Woman  in  the  Compartment    13 

Crichton  breathed  more  freely.  Her  manner 
had  done  more  to  relieve  the  situation  than  any- 
thing he  had  said.  The  inspector  continued  in 
quite  a  different  tone. 

"  *  Height — 5  ft.,  4  inches.'  You  look  a  bit 
shorter  than  that." 

"  Measure  me,  if  you  doubt  it."  She  chal- 
lenged him. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  am  sure  it  is  all  right.  '  Weight 
— 9  stone,  4  Ibs.' "  He  paused  again,  but  this 
time  made  no  comment,  although  Crichton  felt 
sure  that  his  companion  weighed  at  least  ten 
pounds  less  than  the  amount  mentioned.  "  Hair 
— black.  Complexion — fair.  Eyes — blue.  Nose 
— straight.  Mouth — small.  Oval  chin.  Dis- 
tinguishing marks — none.  All  right,  m'm! 
Sorry  to  'ave  disturbed  you,  but  you  understand 
we  'ave  got  to  be  very  careful.  We  'd  never  'ear 
the  last  of  it  if  we  let  the  party  we  're  after  slip 
through  our  fingers." 

"  What  is  the  woman  you  are  looking  for 
accused  of  ?  "  asked  Crichton. 

"  Murder,"  replied  the  inspector,  as  he  closed 
the  door. 


CHAPTER  II 
"  MRS.  PETER  THOMPKINS  " 

"  MURDER  ! " 

Crichton  looked  at  the  girl.  Her  eyes  were 
closed  and  she  lay  back  breathing  heavily.  He 
did  not  know  if  she  had  even  heard  the  accusa- 
tion. Luckily  the  train  was  already  moving. 
In  a  few  minutes,  however,  they  would  be  in 
London  and  then  what  should  he  do  with  her? 
Now  that  he  had  declared  her  to  be  his  wife, 
it  would  arouse  the  suspicion  of  the  police  if 
he  parted  from  her  at  the  station.  Besides,  he 
could  not  desert  the  poor  child  in  her  terrible 
predicament.  For  she  was  innocent,  he  was 
sure  of  that.  But  here  he  was  wasting  precious 
time  worrying  about  the  future,  when  he  ought 
to  be  doing  something  to  revive  her.  It  was 
simply  imperative  that  she  should  be  able  to 
leave  the  train  without  exciting  remark,  as,  once 

14 


"  Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins  "  15 

outside  the  station,  the  immediate  danger  would 
be  over.  His  ministrations,  however,  were  quite 
ineffectual,  and,  to  his  dismay,  the  train  came  to 
a  standstill  before  she  showed  a  sign  of  return- 
ing consciousness. 

A  porter  opened  the  door. 

"Bring  a  glass  of  water;  the  lady  has 
fainted,"  he  ordered.  The  porter  returned  in 
a  few  minutes  followed  by  the  police  inspector. 
Crichton's  heart  sank.  He  fancied  the  latter 
eyed  them  with  reawakened  suspicion.  As  he 
knelt  by  the  girl's  side,  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
his  arms  around  her,  he  suddenly  became  aware 
that  a  number  of  people  had  collected  near  the 
door  and  were  watching  the  scene  with  uncon- 
cealed interest.  And  among  them  stood  Peter, 
his  valet,  staring  at  him  with  open-mouthed 
amazement. 

Damn!  He  had  completely  forgotten  him. 
If  he  did  n't  look  out,  the  fellow  would  be  sure 
to  give  the  situation  away. 

"  Peter,"  he  called. 

Peter  elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

"  Your  mistress  has  fainted.  Get  my  flask." 
Crichton  spoke  slowly  and  distinctly  and  looked 


16  Who? 

Peter  commandingly  in  the  eye.  Would  he  un- 
derstand? Would  he  hold  his  tongue?  Crich- 
ton  watched  him  breathlessly.  For  a  moment 
Peter  blinked  at  him  uncomprehendingly.  Then 
the  surprise  slowly  faded  from  his  face,  leaving 
it  as  stolid  as  usual. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  was  all  he  said  as  he  went 
off  automatically  to  do  his  master's  bidding.  An 
order  has  a  wonderfully  steadying  effect  on  a 
well-trained  servant. 

The  brandy  having  been  brought,  Crichton 
tried  to  force  a  few  drops  of  it  between  the 
girl's  clenched  teeth.  After  a  few  minutes,  how- 
ever, he  had  to  abandon  the  attempt. 

The  situation  was  desperate. 

The  inspector  stepped  forward. 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,  you  ought  to  send  for 
a  doctor?  The  lady  looks  bad  and  she  can't 
stay  here,  you  know.  The  train  has  to  be  backed 
out  in  a  few  minutes.  We'll  carry  her  to  the 
waiting-room  if  you  wish,  or  come  to  think  of 
it,  had  n't  you  better  call  an  ambulance?  Then 
you  could  take  the  lady  home  and  the  doctor 
who  comes  with  them  things  would  know  what 
to  do  for  her." 


"  Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins  "  17 

Crichton  almost  gasped  with  relief. 

"  An  ambulance !  The  very  thing.  Get  one 
immediately ! " 

The  last  passenger  was  just  leaving  the  sta- 
tion when  the  ambulance  clattered  up. 

The  doctor,  although  hardly  more  than  a  boy, 
seemed  to  know  his  business,  and  after  examin- 
ing the  girl  and  asking  a  few  questions,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  administer  various  remedies,  which  he 
took  out  of  a  bag  he  carried. 

"  I  am  afraid  this  case  is  too  serious  for  me," 
he  said  at  last. 

"  What  is  the  trouble?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  can't  speak  with  any  certainty, 
but  from  what  you  tell  me,  I  think  the  lady  is 
in  for  an  attack  of  brain  fever." 

Crichton  felt  his  brain  reel. 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

"  We  will  take  her  home  and  in  the  mean- 
time telephone  to  whatever  doctor  you  wish  to 
have  called,  so  that  he  can  see  the  patient  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  I  have  no  house  in  town.  I  was  going 
into  lodgings  but  I  can't  take  an  invalid 
there." 


1 8  Who? 

"  Of  course  not !  What  do  you  say  to  taking 
her  at  once  to  a  nursing  home?  " 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  best.  Which  one  would 
you  recommend?  I  am  ignorant  of  such 
matters." 

"  Well — Dr.  Stuart-Smith  has  one  not  far 
from  here.  You  know  him  by  reputation,  don't 
you?  " 

"  Certainly.     All  right,  take  her  there." 

"  I  had  better  telephone  and  prepare  them  for 
our  arrival.  What  is  the  lady's  name,  please?  " 

The  inspector's  eyes  were  upon  him;  Peter 
was  at  his  elbow.  Well — there  was  no  help  for 
it. 

"  Mrs.  Cyril  Crichton,"  he  said. 

The  doctor  returned  in  a  few  minutes. 

"  It  is  all  right.  They  have  got  a  room  and 
Doctor  Smith  will  be  there  almost  as  soon  as 
we  are." 

Having  lifted  her  into  the  ambulance,  the 
doctor  turned  to  Cyril  and  said :  "  I  suppose 
you  prefer  to  accompany  Mrs.  Crichton.  You 
can  get  in,  in  front." 

Crichton  meekly  obeyed. 

"  Take  my  things  to  the  lodgings  and  wait  for 


"Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins"          19 

me  there,  and  by  the  way,  be  sure  to  telephone 
at  once  to  Mr.  Campbell  and  tell  him  I  must 
see  him  immediately,"  he  called  to  Peter  as  they 
drove  off. 

They  had  apparently  got  rid  of  the  police — 
that  was  something  at  all  events.  His  own 
position,  however,  caused  him  the  gravest  con- 
cern. It  wras  not  only  compromising  but  su- 
premely ridiculous.  He  must  extricate  himself 
from  it  at  once.  His  only  chance,  he  decided, 
lay  in  confiding  the  truth  to  Dr.  Smith.  Great 
physicians  have  necessarily  an  enormous  know- 
ledge of  life  and  therefore  he  would  be  better 
able  than  any  other  man  to  understand  the 
situation  and  advise  him  as  to  what  should  be 
done.  At  all  events  the  etiquette  of  his  call- 
ing would  prevent  a  doctor  from  divulging 
a  professional  secret,  even  in  the  case  of  his 
failing  to  sympathise  with  his,  Cyril's,  knight- 
errantry.  Crichton  heaved  a  sigh  of  satisfac- 
tion. His  troubles,  he  foresaw,  would  soon  be 
over. 

The  ambulance  stopped.  The  girl  was  car- 
ried into  the  house  and  taken  possession  of  by 
an  efficient-looking  nurse,  and  Cyril  was  re- 


20  Who  ? 

quested  to  wait  in  the  reception-room  while  she 
was  being  put  to  bed.  Dr.  Smith,  he  was  told, 
would  communicate  with  him  as  soon  as  he  had 
examined  the  patient. 

Crichton  paced  the  room  in  feverish  impa- 
tience. His  doubts  revived.  What  if  the  doctor 
should  refuse  to  keep  her?  Again  and  again  he 
rehearsed  what  he  intended  to  say  to  him,  but 
the  oftener  he  did  so,  the  more  incredible  did 
his  story  appear.  It  also  occurred  to  him  that 
a  physician  might  not  feel  himself  bound  to 
secrecy  when  it  was  a  question  of  concealing 
facts  other  than  those  relating  to  a  patient's 
physical  condition.  What  if  the  doctor  should 
consider  it  his  duty  to  inform  the  police  of  her 
whereabouts? 

At  last  the  door  opened.  Dr.  Smith  proved 
to  be  a  short,  grey-haired  man  with  piercing, 
black  eyes  under  beetling,  black  brows,  large 
nose,  and  a  long  upper  lip.  Cyril's  heart  sank. 
The  doctor  did  not  look  as  if  he  would  be  likely 
to  sympathise  with  his  adventure. 

"  Mr.  Crichton,  I  believe."  The  little  man 
spoke  quite  fiercely  and  regarded  our  friend  with 
evident  disfavour. 


"Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins"  21 

Crichton  was  for  a  moment  nonplussed.  What 
had  he  done  to  be  addressed  in  such  a  fashion? 

"  I  hope  you  can  give  me  good  news  of  the 
patient? "  he  said,  disregarding  the  other's 
manner. 

"  No,"  snapped  out  the  doctor.  "  Mrs.  Crich- 
ton is  very  seriously,  not  to  say  dangerously,  ill." 

What  an  extraordinary  way  of  announcing 
a  wife's  illness  to  a  supposed  husband!  Was 
every  one  mad  to-day? 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry — "  began  Crichton. 

"  Oh,  you  are,  are  you? "  interrupted  the 
doctor,  and  this  time  there  could  be  no  doubt 
he  was  intentionally  insulting.  "  Will  you  then 
be  kind  enough  to  explain  how  your  wife  hap- 
pens to  be  in  the  condition  she  is?  " 

"What  condition?"  faltered  Cyril. 

"  Tut,  man,  don't  pretend  to  be  ignorant. 
Remember  I  am  a  doctor  and  can  testify  to 
the  facts;  yes,  facts,"  he  almost  shouted. 

Poor  Crichton  sat  down  abruptly.  He  really 
felt  he  could  bear  no  more. 

"  For  God's  sake,  doctor,  tell  me  what  is  the 
matter  with  her.  I  swear  I  have  n't  the  faintest 
idea." 


22  Who  ? 

His  distress  was  so  evidently  genuine  that  the 
doctor  relaxed  a  little  and  looked  at  him  search- 
ingly  for  a  moment. 

"  Your  wife  has  been  recently  flogged ! " 

"Flogged!  How  awful!  But  I  can't  believe 
it." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Certainly  not.  You  must  be  mistaken.  The 
bruises  may  be  the  result  of  a  fall." 

"  They  are  not,"  snapped  the  doctor. 

"  Flogged !  here  in  England,  in  the  twentieth 
century!  But  who  could  have  done  such  a 
thing?  " 

"  That  is  for  you  to  explain,  and  I  must  warn 
you  that  unless  your  explanation  is  unexpectedly 
satisfactory,  I  shall  at  once  notify  the  police." 

Police !  Crichton  wiped  beads  of  perspiration 
from  his  forehead. 

"  But,  doctor,  I  know  no  more  about  it  than 
you  do." 

"  So  you  think  that  it  will  be  sufficient  for 
you  to  deny  all  knowledge  as  to  how,  where,  and 
by  whom  a  woman  who  is  your  wife — yes,  sir — 
your  wife,  has  been  maltreated?  Man,  do  you 
take  me  for  a  fool?" 


"Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins"          23 

What  should  he  do?  Was  this  the  moment  to 
tell  him  the  truth?  No,  it  would  be  useless. 
The  doctor,  believing  him  to  be  a  brute,  was  not 
in  a  frame  of  mind  to  attach  credence  to  his 
story.  The  truth  was  too  improbable,  a  con- 
vincing lie  could  alone  save  the  situation. 

"  My  wife  and  I  have  not  been  living  together 
lately,"  he  stammered. 

"  Indeed ! "  The  piercing  eyes  seemed  to 
grow  more  piercing,  the  long  upper  lip  to 
become  longer. 

"  Yes,"  Orichton  hesitated — it  is  so  difficult 
to  invent  a  plausible  story  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  "  In  fact,  I  met  her  quite  unexpectedly 
in  Newhaven." 

"  In  Newhaven?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  just  arrived  from  France,"  con- 
tinued Crichton  more  fluently.  An  idea  was 
shaping  itself  in  his  mind.  "  I  was  most 
astonished  to  meet  my  wife  in  England  as  I 
had  been  looking  for  her  in  Paris  for  the  last 
week." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  My  wife  is  unfortunately  mentally  unbal- 
anced. For  the  last  few  months  she  has  been 


24  Who? 

confined  in  an  asylum."  Crichton  spoke  with 
increasing  assurance. 

"  Where  was  this  asylum?  " 

"  In  France." 

"  Yes,  but  where?     France  is  a  big  place." 

"  It  is  called  Charleroi  and  is  about  thirty 
miles  from  Paris  in  the  direction  of  Fon- 
tainebleau." 

"  Who  is  the  director  of  this  institution?  " 

"  Dr.  Leon  Monet." 

"  And  you  suggest  that  it  was  there  that  she 
was  ill-treated.  Let  me  tell  you " 

Cyril  interrupted  him. 

"  I  suggest  no  such  thing.  My  wife  escaped 
from  Charleroi  over  a  week  ago.  We  know  she 
went  to  Paris,  but  there  we  lost  all  trace  of  her. 
Imagine  my  astonishment  at  finding  her  on  the 
train  this  morning.  How  she  got  there,  I  can't 
think.  She  seemed  very  much  agitated,  but  I 
attributed  that  to  my  presence.  I  have  lately 
had  a  most  unfortunate  effect  upon  her.  I  did 
ask  her  how  she  got  the  bruise  on  her  cheek,  but 
she  would  n't  tell  me.  I  had  no  idea  she  was 
suffering.  If  I  had  been  guilty  of  the  condition 
she  is  in,  is  it  likely  that  I  should  have  brought 


"Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins"          25 

her  to  a  man  of  your  reputation  and  character? 
I  think  that  alone  proves  my  innocence." 

The  doctor  stared  at  him  fixedly  for  a  few 
moments  as  if  weighing  the  credibility  of  his 
explanation. 

"  You  say  that  the  physician  under  whose  care 
your  wife  has  been  is  called  Monet?  " 

"  Yes,  Leon  Monet." 

The  doctor  left  the  room  abruptly.  When  he 
returned,  his  bearing  had  completely  changed. 

"  I  have  just  verified  your  statement  in  a 
French  medical  directory  and  I  must  apologise 
to  you  for  having  jumped  at  conclusions  in  the 
way  I  did.  Pray,  forgive  me " 

Crichton  bowed  rather  distantly.  He  didn't 
feel  over-kindly  to  the  man  who  had  forced  him 
into  such  a  quagmire  of  lies. 

"  Now  as  to — "  Cyril  hesitated  a  moment ; 
he  detested  calling  the  girl  by  his  name.  "  Now 
— as  to — to — the  patient.  Have  you  any  idea 
when  she  is  likely  to  recover  consciousness?  " 

"  Not  the  faintest.  Of  course,  what  you  tell 
me  of  her  mental  condition  increases  the  serious- 
ness of  the  case.  With  hysterical  cases  anything 
and  everything  is  possible." 


26''  Who? 

"  But  you  do  not  fear  the — worst." 

"  Certainly  not.  She  is  young.  She  will  re- 
ceive the  best  of  care.  I  see  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  recover.  Now  if  you  wrould  like  to 
remain  near  her " 

There  seemed  a  conspiracy  to  keep  him  for- 
ever at  the  girl's  side,  but  this  time  he  meant 
to  break  away  even  if  he  had  to  fight  for  it. 

"  I  shall,  of  course,  remain  near  her,"  Cyril 
interrupted  hastily.  "  I  have  taken  lodgings  in 
Half  Moon  Street  and  shall  stay  there  till  she 
has  completely  recovered.  As  she  has  lately 
shown  the  most  violent  dislike  of  me,  I  think 
I  had  better  not  attempt  to  see  her  for  the 
present.  Don't  you  agree  with  me?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  should  not  permit  it  under  the 
circumstances." 

"  I  shall  call  daily  to  find  out  how  she  is,  and 
if  there  is  any  change  in  her  condition,  you  will, 
of  course,  notify  me  at  once."  Crichton  took 
out  a  card  and  scribbled  his  address  on  it. 
"  This  will  always  find  me.  And  now  I  have  a 
rather  delicate  request  to  make.  Would  you 
mind  not  letting  any  one  know  the  identity  of 
your  patient?  You  see  I  have  every  hope  that 


"Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins"          27 

she  will  eventually  recover  her  reason  and  there- 
fore I  wish  her  malady  to  be  kept  a  secret.  I 
have  told  my  friends  that  my  wife  is  in  the 
south  of  France  undergoing  a  species  of  rest 
cure." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  wise.  I  shall  not  men- 
tion her  name  to  any  one." 

"  But  the  nurses?  " 

"  It  is  a  rule  of  all  nursing  homes  that  a  pa- 
tient's name  is  never  to  be  mentioned  to  an 
outsider.  But  if  you  wish  to  take  extra  pre- 
cautions, you  might  give  her  another  name  while 
she  is  here  and  they  need  never  know  that  it  is 
not  her  own." 

"  Thank  you.  That  is  just  what  I  should 
wish." 

"  What  do  you  think  Mrs.  Crichton  had  better 
be  called?  " 

Cyril  thought  a  moment. 

"  Mrs.  Peter  Thompkins,  and  I  will  become 
Mr.  Thompkins.  Please  address  all  communica- 
tions to  me  under  that  name;  otherwise  the  truth 
is  sure  to  leak  out." 

"  But  how  will  you  arrange  to  get  your 
mail?" 


28  Who? 

"  Peter  Thompkins  is  my  valet,  so  that  is  quite 
simple." 

"  Very  well.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Thompkins.  I 
trust  I  shall  soon  have  a  better  report  to  give 
you  of  Mrs.  Thompkins." 

A  moment  later  Cyril  was  in  a  taxi  speeding 
towards  Mayfair,  a  free  man — for  the  moment. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  TRIBULATIONS  OP  A  LIAR 

WHILE  Crichton  was  dressing  he  glanced 
from  time  to  time  at  his  valet.  Peter  had  evi- 
dently been  deeply  shocked  by  the  incident  at 
the  railway  station,  for  the  blunt  profile,  so  per- 
sistently presented  to  him,  was  austerely  remote 
as  well  as  subtly  disapproving.  Cyril  was  fond 
of  the  old  man,  who  had  been  his  father's  ser- 
vant and  had  known  him  almost  from  his  in- 
fancy. He  felt  that  he  owed  him  some 
explanation,  particularly  as  he  had  without 
consulting  him  made  use  of  his  name. 

But  what  should  he  say  to  him?  Never  be- 
fore had  he  so  fully  realised  the  joy,  the  com- 
fort, the  dignity  of  truth.  It  was  not  a  virtue 
he  decided;  it  was  a  privilege.  If  he  ever  got 
out  of  the  hole  he  was  in,  he  meant  to  wallow 
in  it  for  the  future.  That  happy  time  seemed, 

however,  still  far  distant. 

29 


30  Who  ? 

Believing  the  girl  to  be  innocent,  he  wanted 
as  few  people  as  possible  to  know  the  nature  of 
the  cloud  which  hung  over  her.  Peter's  loyalty, 
he  knew,  he  could  count  on,  that  had  been  often 
and  fully  proved ;  but  his  discretion  wras  another 
matter.  Peter  was  no  actor.  If  he  had  any- 
thing to  conceal,  even  his  silence  became  so  por- 
tentous of  mystery  that  it  could  not  fail  to 
arouse  the  curiosity  of  the  most  unsuspicious. 
No,  he  must  think  of  some  simple  story  which 
would  satisfy  Peter  as  to  the  propriety  of  his 
conduct  and  yet  which,  if  it  leaked  out,  would 
not  be  to  the  girl's  discredit. 

"  You  must  have  been  surprised  to  hear  me 
give  my  name  to  the  young  lady  you  saw  at  the 
station,"  he  began  tentatively. 

"  Yes,  sir."     Peter's  expression  relaxed. 

"  Her  story  is  a  very  sad  one."  So  much  at 
any  rate  must  be  true,  thought  poor  Cyril  with 
some  satisfaction. 

"  Yes,  sir."  Peter  was  waiting  breathlessly 
for  the  sequel. 

"  I  don't  feel  at  liberty  to  repeat  what  she 
told  me.  You  understand  that,  don't  you?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  agreed  Peter,  but  his  face  fell. 


The  Tribulations  of  a  Liar         31 

"  So  all  I  can  tell  you  is  that  she  was  escap- 
ing from  a  brute  who  horribly  ill-treated  her. 
Of  course  I  offered  to  help  her." 

"  Of  course,"  echoed  Peter. 

"  Unfortunately  she  was  taken  ill  before  she 
had  told  me  her  name  or  who  the  friends  were 
with  whom  she  was  seeking  refuge.  What  was 
I  to  do?  If  the  police  heard  that  a  young  girl 
had  been  found  unconscious  on  the  train,  the 
fact  would  have  been  advertised  far  and  wide  so 
as  to  enable  them  to  establish  her  identity,  in 
which  case  the  person  from  whom  she  was  hiding 
would  have  taken  possession  of  her,  which  he 
has  a  legal  right  to  do — so  she  gave  me  to 
understand."  Crichton  paused  quite  out  of 
breath.  He  was  doing  beautifully.  Peter  was 
swallowing  his  tale  unquestionably — and  really, 
you  know,  for  an  inexperienced  liar  that  was 
a  reasonably  probable  story.  "  So  you  see,"  he 
continued,  "  it  was  necessary  for  her  to  have  a 
name  and  mine  was  the  only  one  which  would 
not  provoke  further  inquiry." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  should  'ave 
thought  that  Smith  or  Jones  would  'ave  done 
just  as  well." 


32  Who  ? 

"  Certainly  not.  The  authorities  would  have 
wanted  further  particulars  and  would  at  once 
have  detected  the  fraud.  No  one  will  ever  know 
that  I  lent  an  unfortunate  woman  for  a  few 
hours  the  protection  of  my  name,  and  there  is 
no  one  who  has  the  right  to  object  to  my  having 
done  so — except  the  young  lady  herself." 

"  Yes,  sir,  quite  so." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  on  account  of  the  posi- 
tion I  am  in  at  present,  it  is  most  important 
that  I  should  do  nothing  which  could  by  any 
possibility  be  misconstrued." 

"  Yes,  sir,  certainly,  sir." 

"  And  so  I  told  the  doctor  that  the  young  lady 
had  better  not  be  called  by  my  name  while  she 
is  at  the  home  and  so — and  so — well — in  fact — 
I  gave  her  yours.  I  hope  you  don't  mind?  " 

"  My  name?  "  gasped  Peter  in  a  horrified  voice. 

"Yes,  you  see  you  haven't  got  a  wife,  have 
you?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  sir !  " 

"  So  there  could  n't  be  any  possible  complica- 
tions in  your  case." 

"  One  never  can  tell,  sir — a  name  's  a  name 
and  females  are  sometimes, not  over-particular." 


The  Tribulations  of  a  Liar          33 

"  Don't  be  an  ass !  Why,  you  ought  to  feel 
proud  to  be  able  to  be  of  use  to  a  charming 
lady.  Where  's  your  chivalry,  Peter?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  but  I  do  'ope  she 's  re- 
spectable," he  answered  miserably. 

"  Of  course  she  is.  Don't  you  know  a  lady 
when  you  see  one?  " 

Peter  shook  his  head  tragically. 

"  I  'm  sorry  you  feel  like  that  about  it,"  said 
Crichton.  "  It  never  occurred  to  me  you  would 
mind,  and  I  have  n't  yet  told  you  all.  I  not 
only  gave  the  young  lady  your  name  but  took 
it  myself." 

"  Took  my  name !  " 

"  Yes.  At  the  nursing  home  I  am  known  as 
Mr.  Peter  Thompkins.  Pray  that  I  don't  dis- 
grace you,  Peter." 

"  Oh,  sir,  a  false  name !  If  you  get  found  out, 
they  '11  never  believe  you  are  hinnocent  when 
you  've  done  a  thing  like  that.  Of  course,  a 
gentleman  like  you  hought  to  know  his  own 
business  best,  but  it  do  seem  to  me  most  awful 
risky." 

"  Well,  it 's  a  risk  that  had  to  be  taken.  It 
was  a  choice  of  evils,  I  grant  you.  Hah!  I 


34  Who? 

sniff  breakfast;  the  bacon  and  eggs  of  my  coun- 
try await  me.  I  am  famishing,  and  I  say,  Peter, 
do  try  to  take  a  more  cheerful  view  of  this 
business." 

"  I  '11  try,  sir." 

Crichton  was  still  at  breakfast  when  a  short, 
red-haired  young  man  fairly  burst  into  the  room. 

"  Guy  Campbell !  "  exclaimed  Cyril  joyfully. 

"  Hullo,  old  chap,  glad  to  see  you,"  cried  the 
newcomer,  pounding  Cyril  affectionately  on  the 
back.  "  How  goes  it?  I  say,  your  telephone 
message  gave  me  quite  a  turn.  What's  up? 
Have  you  got  into  a  scrape?  You  look  as  calm 
as  possible." 

"  If  I  look  calm,  my  looks  belie  me.  I  assure 
you  I  never  felt  less  calm  in  my  life." 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter?  " 

"  You  won't  have  some  breakfast?  " 

"  Breakfast  at  half -past  eleven !  No  thank 
you." 

"  Well,  then,  take  a  cigarette,  pull  up  that 
chair  to  the  fire,  and  listen — and  don't  play  the 
fool ;  this  is  serious." 

"  Fire  away." 

"  I   want  your  legal  advice,   Guy,   though   I 


The  Tribulations  of  a  Liar          35 

suppose  you'll  tell  me  I  need  a  solicitor,  not 
a  barrister.  I  wish  to  get  a  divorce." 

"  A  divorce?  Why,  Cyril,  I  am  awfully  sorry. 
I  had  heard  that  your  marriage  had  n't  turned 
out  any  too  well,  but  I  had  no  idea  it  was  as 
bad  as  that.  You  have  proof,  I  suppose." 

"  Ample." 

"  Tell  me  the  particulars.  I  never  have  heard 
anything  against  your  wife's  character." 

"  You  mean  that  you  have  never  heard  that 
she  was  unfaithful  to  me.  Bah,  it  makes  me 
sick  the  way  people  talk,  as  if  infidelity  were 
the  only  vice  that  damned  a  woman's  character. 
Guy,  her  character  was  rotten  through  and 
through.  Her  infidelity  was  simply  a  minor, 
though  culminating,  expression  of  it." 

"  But  how  did  you  come  to  marry  such  a 
person?  " 

"  You  know  she  was  the  Chalmerses'  govern- 
ess? " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  had  been  spending  a  few  weeks  with  them. 
Jack,  the  oldest  son,  was  a  friend  of  mine  and 
she  was  the  daughter  of  a  brother  officer  of  old 
Chalmers's  who  had  died  in  India,  and  conse- 


36  Who? 

quently  her  position  in  the  household  was  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  an  ordinary  governess.  I 
soon  got  quite  friendly  with  Amy  and  her  two 
charges,  and  we  used  to  rag  about  together  a 
good  deal.  I  liked  her,  but  upon  my  honour  I 
had  n't  a  thought  of  making  love  to  her.  Then 
one  day  there  was  an  awful  row.  They  accused 
her  of  carrying  on  a  clandestine  love  affair  with 
Freddy,  the  second  son,  and  with  drinking  on 
the  sly.  They  had  found  empty  bottles  hidden 
in  her  bedroom.  She  posed  as  injured  innocence 
— the  victim  of  a  vile  plot  to  get  her  out  of  the 
house — had  no  money,  no  friends,  no  hope  of 
another  situation.  I  was  young;  she  was  pretty. 
I  was  dreadfully  sorry  for  her  and  so — well,  I 
married  her.  As  the  regiment  had  just  been 
ordered  to  South  Africa,  we  went  there  im- 
mediately. We  had  not  been  married  a  year, 
however,  when  I  discovered  that  she  was  a  con- 
firmed drunkard.  I  think  only  the  fear  of  losing 
her  position  had  kept  her  within  certain  bounds. 
That  necessity  removed,  she  seemed  unable  to 
put  any  restraint  on  herself.  I  doubt  if  she 
even  tried  to  do  so." 
"  Poor  Cyril !  " 


The  Tribulations  of  a  Liar          37 

"  Later  on  I  found  out  that  she  was  taking 
drugs  as  well  as  stimulants.  She  would  drink 
herself  into  a  frenzy  and  then  stupefy  herself 
with  opiates.  But  it  is  not  only  weakness  I  am 
accusing  her  of.  She  was  inherently  deceitful 
and  cruel — ah,  what  is  the  use  of  talking  about 
it!  I  have  been  through  Hell." 

"  You  have  n't  been  living  together  lately,  have 
you?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  she  was  disgracing  not  only 
herself  but  the  regiment,  and  so  it  became  a 
question  of  either  leaving  the  army  or  getting 
her  to  live  somewhere  else.  So  I  brought  her 
back  to  Europe,  took  a  small  villa  near  Pau,  and 
engaged  an  efficient  nurse-companion  to  look 
after  her.  I  spent  my  leave  with  her,  but  that 
was  all.  Last  spring,  however,  she  got  so  bad 
that  her  companion  cabled  for  me.  For  a  few 
weeks  she  was  desperately  ill,  and  when  she  par- 
tially recovered,  the  doctor  persuaded  me  to  send 
her  to  a  sanitarium  for  treatment.  Charleroi 
was  recommended  to  me.  It  was  chiefly  cele- 
brated as  a  lunatic  asylum,  but  it  has  an  annex 
where  dipsomaniacs  and  drug  fiends  are  cared 
for.  At  first,  the  doctor's  reports  were  very  dis- 


38  Who? 

couraging,  but  lately  her  improvement  is  said  to 
have  been  quite  astonishing,  so  much  so  that  it 
was  decided  that  I  should  take  her  away  for  a 
little  trip.  I  was  on  my  way  to  Charleroi,  when 
the  news  reached  me  that  Amy  had  escaped.  We 
soon  discovered  that  she  had  fled  with  a  M.  de 
Brissac,  who  had  been  discharged  as  cured  the 
day  before  my  wife's  disappearance.  We  traced 
them  to  within  a  few  miles  of  Paris,  but  there 
lost  track  of  them.  I  have,  however,  engaged  a 
detective  to  furnish  me  with  further  particulars. 
I  fancy  the  Frenchman  is  keeping  out  of  the 
way  for  fear  I  shall  kill  him.  Bah!  Why,  I 
pity  him,  that  is  all!  He  '11  soon  find  out  what 
that  woman  is  like.  He  has  given  me  freedom! 
Oh,  you  can't  realise  what  that  means  to  me.  I 
only  wish  my  father  were  alive  to  know  that  I 
have  this  chance  of  beginning  life  over  again." 

"  I  was  so  sorry  to  hear  of  his  death.  He  was 
always  so  kind  to  us  boys  when  we  stayed  at 
Lingwood.  I  wrote  you  when  I  heard  the  sad 
news,  but  you  never  answered  any  of  my  letters." 

"  I  know,  old  chap,  but  you  must  forgive  me. 
I  have  been  too  miserable — too  ashamed.  I  only 
wanted  to  creep  away  and  to  be  forgotten." 


The  Tribulations  of  a  Liar          39 

"  Your  father  died  in  Paris,  did  n't  he?  " 

"  Yes,  luckily  I  was  with  him.  It  was  just 
after  I  had  taken  Amy  to  Charleroi.  He  was 
a  broken-hearted  man.  He  never  got  over  the 
mess  I  had  made  of  my  life  and  Wilmersley's 
marriage  was  the  last  straw.  He  brooded  over 
it  continually." 

"  Why  had  your  father  been  so  sure  that  Lord 
Wilmersley  would  never  marry?  He  was  an  old 
bachelor,  but  not  so  very  old  after  all.  He  can't 
be  more  than  fifty  now." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Wilmersley  has  a  bee  in  his 
bonnet.  His  mother  was  a  Spanish  ballet  dancer 
whom  my  uncle  married  when  he  was  a  mere 
boy.  She  was  a  dreadful  old  creature.  I  re- 
member her  distinctly,  a  great,  fat  woman  with 
a  big,  white  face  and  enormous,  glassy,  black 
eyes.  I  was  awfully  afraid  of  her.  She  died 
when  Wilmersley  was  about  twenty  and  my  uncle 
followed  her  a  few  months  later.  His  funeral 
was  hardly  over  when  my  cousin  left  Geralton 
and  nothing  definite  was  heard  of  him  for  almost 
twenty-five  years.  He  was  supposed  to  be  travel- 
ling in  the  far  East,  and  from  time  to  time  some 
pretty  queer  rumours  drifted  back  about  him. 


40  Who  ? 

Whether  they  were  true  or  not,  I  have  never 
known.  One  day  he  returned  to  Geralton  as  un- 
expectedly as  he  had  left  it.  He  sent  for  me 
at  once.  He  has  immense  family  pride — the 
ballet  dancer,  I  fancy,  rankles — and  having  de- 
cided for  some  reason  or  other  not  to  marry, 
he  wished  his  heir  to  cut  a  dash.  He  offered 
me  an  allowance  of  £4000  a  year,  told  me  to 
marry  as  «oon  as  possible,  and  sent  me  home." 

"  Well,  that  was  pretty  decent  of  him.  You 
don't  seem  very  grateful." 

"  I  can't  bear  him.  He  's  a  most  repulsive- 
looking  chap,  a  thorough  Spaniard,  with  no 
trace  of  his  father's  blood  that  I  can  see.  And 
as  I  married  soon  afterwards  and  my  marriage 
was  not  to  his  liking,  he  stopped  my  allowance 
and  swore  I  should  never  succeed  him  if  he  could 
help  it.  So  you  see  I  haven't  much  reason  to 
be  grateful  to  him." 

"  Beastly  shame !  He  married  Miss  Manner- 
ing,  Lady  Upton's  granddaughter,  did  n't  he?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  She  is  a  little  queer,  I  believe." 

"  Really?  I  did  n't  know  that.  I  have  never 
seen  her,  but  I  hear  she  is  very  pretty.  Well, 


The  Tribulations  of  a  Liar         41 

1  'm  sorry  for  her,  brought  up  by  that  old  cur- 
mudgeon of  a  grandmother  and  married  out  of 
the  schoolroom  to  Wilmersley.  She  has  never 
had  much  of  a  chance,  has  she?  " 

"  There  are  no  children  as  yet?  " 

"  No." 

"  So  that  now  that  your  father  is  dead,  you 
are  the  immediate  heir." 

The  door  was  flung  open  and  Peter  rushed 
into  the  room  brandishing  a  paper. 

"  Oh,  sir,  it 's  come  at  last !  I  always  felt  it 
would !  "  He  stuttered  with  excitement. 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you?  " 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  am  that  hovercome ! 
I  heard  them  crying  '  hextras,'  so  I  went  out 
and  gets  one — just  casual-like.  Little  did  I 
think  what  would  be  in  it — and  there  it  was." 

"  There  was  what? "  Both  men  spoke  at 
once,  leaning  eagerly  forward. 

"  That  Lord  Wilmersley  is  dead ;  and  so,  my 
lord,  I  wish  you  much  joy  and  a  long  life." 

"  This  is  very  sudden,"  gasped  Crichton.  "  I 
had  n't  heard  he  was  ill.  What  did  he  die  of?  " 

"  'E  was  murdered,  my  lord." 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  THE  SCENE  OF  THE  TEAGEDY 

"  WHEN,  how,  who  did  it? "  cried  Cyril  in- 
coherently. "  Give  nie  the  paper." 

"  Murder  of  Lord  Wilmersley — disappearance 
of  Lady  Wilmersley,"  he  read.  "  Disappear- 
ance of  Lady  Wilmersley,"  he  repeated,  as  the 
paper  fell  from  his  limp  hand. 

"  Here,  get  your  master  some  whiskey ;  th 
shock  has  been  too  much  for  him,"  said  Camp 
bell.     "  Mysterious  disappearance  of  Lady  Wil- 
mersley," murmured  Crichton,  staring  blankly 
in  front  of  him. 

"  Here,  drink  this,  old  man ;  you  '11  be  all 
right  in  a  moment,"  said  Campbell,  pressing  a 
glass  into  his  hand. 

Cyril  emptied  it  automatically. 

"  The  deuce  take  it ! "  he  cried,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

42 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       43 

"  Shall  I  read  you  the  particulars?  "  Camp- 
bell asked,  taking  the  paper.  Cyril  nodded 
assent. 

" '  The  body  of  Lord  Wilmersley  was  found  at 
seven  o'clock  this  morning  floating  in  the  swim- 
ming bath  at  Geralton.  It  was  at  first  thought 
that  death  had  been  caused  by  drowning,  but  on 
examination,  a  bullet  wound  was  discovered  over 
the  heart.  Search  for  the  pistol  with  which  the 
crime  was  committed  has  so  far  proved  fruit- 
less. The  corpse  was  dressed  in  a  long,  Eastern 
garment  frequently  worn  by  the  deceased.  Lady 
Wilmersley's  bedroom,  which  adjoins  the  swim- 
ming bath,  was  empty.  The  bed  had  not  been 
slept  in.  A  hurried  search  of  the  castle  and 
grounds  was  at  once  made,  but  no  trace  of  her 
ladyship  has  been  discovered.  It  is  feared  that 
she  also  has  been  murdered  and  her  body  thrown 
into  the  lake,  which  is  only  a  short  distance 
from  the  castle.  None  of  her  wearing  apparel 
is  missing,  even  the  dress  and  slippers  she  wore 
on  the  previous  evening  were  found  in  a  corner 
of  her  room.  Robbery  was  probably  the  motive 
of  the  crime,  as  a  small  safe,  which  stands  next 
to  Lady  Wilmersley's  bed  and  contained  her 


44  Who  ? 

jewels,  has  been  rifled.  Whoever  did  this  must, 
however,  have  known  the  combination,  as  the 
lock  has  not  been  tampered  with.  This  adds  to 
the  mystery  of  the  case.  Lady  Wilmersley  is 
said  to  be  mentally  unbalanced.  Arthur  Ed- 
ward Crichton,  9th  Baron  Wilmersley,  was 
born — '  here  follows  a  history  of  your  family, 
Cyril,  you  don't  want  to  hear  that.  Well,  what 
do  you  think  of  it?  "  asked  Campbell. 

"  It 's  too  horrible !  I  can't  think,"  said 
Crichton. 

"  I  don't  believe  Lady  Wilmersley  was  mur- 
dered," said  Campbell.  "  Why  should  a  mur- 
derer have  troubled  to  remove  one  body  and  not 
the  other?  Mark  my  words,  it  was  his  wife  who 
killed  Wilmersley  and  opened  the  safe." 

"  I  don't  believe  it!  I  won't  believe  it !  "  cried 
Cyril.  "  Besides,  how  could  she  have  got  away 
without  a  dress  or  hat?  Remember  they  make 
a  point  of  the  fact  that  none  of  her  clothes  are 
missing." 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  can't  believe  every- 
thing you  read  in  a  newspaper;  but  even  grant- 
ing the  correctness  of  that  statement,  what  was 
there  to  prevent  her  having  borrowed  a  dress 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       45 

from  one  of  her  maids?  She  must  have  had 
one,  you  know." 

"No— no!  It  can't  be,  I  tell  you;  I—" 
Cyril  stopped  abruptly. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  you?  You  look  as 
guilty  as  though  you  had  killed  him  yourself. 
I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see  why  you  take  the 
thing  so  terribly  to  heart.  You  did  n't  like  your 
cousin  and  from  what  you  yourself  tell  me,  I 
fancy  he  is  no  great  loss  to  any  one,  and  you 
don't  know  his  wife — widow,  I  mean." 

"  It  is  such  a  shock,"  stammered  Cyril. 

"  Of  course  it 's  a  shock,  but  you  ought  to 
think  of  your  new  duties.  You  will  have  to  go 
to  Geralton  at  once?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  will  be  expected  of  me," 
Cyril  assented  gloomily.  "  Peter,  pack  my 
things  and  find  out  when  the  next  train  leaves." 

"  Very  well,  my  lord." 

"  And  Guy,  you  will  come  with  me,  won't 
you?  I  really  can't  face  this  business  alone. 
Besides,  your  legal  knowledge  may  come  in 
useful." 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry,  but  I  really  can't  come 
to-day.  I  've  got  to  be  in  court  this  afternoon ; 


46  Who  ? 

but  I  '11  coine  as  soon  as  I  can,  if  you  really 
want  me." 

"  Do ! " 

"  Of  course  I  want  to  be  of  use  if  I  can,  but 
a  detective  is  really  what  you  need." 

"  A  detective?  "  gasped  Cyril. 

"  Well,  why  not?  Don't  look  as  if  I  had  sug- 
gested your  hiring  a  camel !  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  not — I  mean  a  detective  is — 
would  be — in  fact — very  useful,"  stammered 
Cyril.  Why  could  n't  Guy  mind  his  own 
business? 

"  Why  not  get  one  and  take  him  down  with 
you?  "  persisted  Campbell. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  Cyril  hurriedly  objected,  "  I  don't 
think  I  had  better  do  that.  They  may  have  one 
already.  Should  n't  like  to  begin  by  hurting 
local  feeling  and — and  all  that,  you  know." 

"Rot!" 

"  At  any  rate,  I  'm  not  going  to  engage  any 
one  till  I  've  looked  into  the  matter  myself," 
said  Cyril.  "  If  I  find  I  need  a  man,  I  '11 
wire." 

Campbell,  grumbling  about  unnecessary  delay, 
let  the  matter  drop. 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       47 

Two  hours  later  Cyril  was  speeding  towards 
Newhaven. 

Huddled  in  a  corner  of  the  railway  carriage, 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  gloomiest  reflections. 
Was  ever  any  one  pursued  by  such  persistent 
ill-luck?  It  seemed  too  hard  that  just  as  he  be- 
gan to  see  an  end  to  his  matrimonial  troubles, 
he  should  have  tumbled  headlong  into  this  terri- 
ble predicament.  From  the  moment  he  heard 
of  Lady  Wilmersley's  disappearance  he  had 
never  had  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  but  that  it 
was  she  he  had  rescued  that  morning  from  the 
police.  What  was  he  going  to  do,  now  that 
he  knew  her  identity?  He  must  decide  on  a 
course  of  action  at  once.  Wash  his  hands  of 
her?  No-o.  He  felt  he  couldn't  do  that — at 
least,  not  yet.  But  unless  he  immediately  and 
voluntarily  confessed  the  truth,  who  would  be- 
lieve him  if  it  ever  came  to  light?  If  it  were 
discovered  that  he,  the  heir,  had  helped  his 
cousin's  murderess  to  escape — had  posed  as  her 
husband,  would  any  one,  would  any  jury  believe 
that  chance  alone  had  thrown  them  together? 
He  might  prove  an  alibi,  but  that  would  only 
save  his  life — not  his  honour.  He  would  always 


48  Who  ? 

be  suspected  of  having  instigated,  if  not  actually 
committed,  the  murder. 

If,  however,  by  some  miracle  the  truth  did  not 
leak  out,  what  then?  It  would  mean  that  from 
this  day  forward  he  would  live  in  constant  fear 
of  detection.  The  very  fact  of  her  secret  exist- 
ence must  necessarily  poison  his  whole  life. 
Lies,  lies,  lies  would  be  his  future  portion.  Was 
he  willing  to  assume  such  a  burden?  Was  it 
his  duty  to  take  upon  himself  the  charge  of 
a  woman  who  was  after  all  but  a  homicidal 
maniac?  But  was  she  a  maniac?  Again  and 
again  he  went  over  each  incident  of  their  meet- 
ing, weighed  her  every  word  and  action,  and 
again  he  found  it  impossible  to  believe  that  her 
mind  was  unbalanced.  Yet  if  she  was  not  in- 
sane, what  excuse  could  he  find  to  explain  her 
crime?  Provocation?  Yes,  she  had  had  that. 
She  had  been  beaten,  flogged.  But  even  so,  to 
kill!  He  had  once  been  present  when  a  mur- 
derer was  sentenced :  "  To  hang  by  the  neck 
until  you  are  dead,"  the  words  rang  in  his  ears. 
That  small  white  neck — no — never.  Suddenly 
he  realised  that  his  path  was  irrevocably  chosen. 
As  long  as  she  needed  him,  he  would  protect  her 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       49 

to  the  uttermost  of  his  ability.  Even  if  his 
efforts  proved  futile,  even  if  he  ruined  his  life 
without  saving  hers,  he  felt  he  would  never 
regret  his  decision. 

"  Newhaven." 

It  seemed  centuries  since  he  had  left  it  that 
morning.  Hiring  a  fly,  he  drove  out  to  Geral- 
ton,  a  distance  of  nine  miles.  There  the  door 
was  opened  by  the  same  butler  who  had  admitted 
him  five  years  previously.  "  It 's  Mr.  Cyril !  " 
he  cried,  falling  back  a  step.  "  Why,  sir,  they 
all  told  us  as  'ow  you  were  in  South  Africa. 
But  I  bid  you  welcome,  sir." 

"  Thank  you.     I  am  glad  to  see  you  again." 

"  Thank  you,  sir, — my  lord,  I  mean,  and  please 
forgive  your  being  received  like  this — but  every 
one  is  so  upset,  there's  no  doing  nothing  with 
nobody.  If  you  will  step  in  'ere,  I  '11  call  Mrs. 
Eversley,  the  'ousekeeper." 

"  Is  Mrs.  Eversley  still  here?  I  remember 
her  perfectly.  She  used  to  stuff  me  with  dough- 
nuts when  I  came  here  as  a  boy.  Tell  her  I 
will  see  her  presently." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord." 

"  Now  I  want  to  hear  all  the  particulars  of 


50  Who? 

the  tragedy.  The  newspaper  account  was  very 
meagre." 

"  Quite  so,  my  lord,"  assented  the  butler. 

"  Lady  Wilmersley  has  not  been  found? " 
asked  Cyril. 

"  No,  my  lord.  We  've  searched  for  her  lady- 
ship 'igh  and  low.  Not  a  trace  of  her.  And 
now  every  one  says  as  'ow  she  did  it.  But  I  '11 
never  believe  it — never.  A  gentle  little  lady,  she 
was,  and  so  easily  frightened !  Why,  if  my  lord 
so  much  as  looked  at  her  sometimes,  she  'd  fall 
a  trembling,  and  'e  always  so  kind  and  devoted 
to  'er.  'E  just  doted  on  'er,  'e  did.  I  never 
saw  nothing  like  it." 

"  If  you  don't  believe  her  ladyship  guilty,  is 
there  any  one  else  you  do  suspect?  " 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  can't  say  as  I  do."  He  spoke 
regretfully.  "  It  was  a  burglar,  I  believe.  I 
think  the  detective " 

"What  detective?"  interrupted  Cyril. 

"  His  name  is  Judson ;  'e  comes  from  London 
and  they  say  as  'e  can  find  a  murderer  just  by 
looking  at  the  chair  'e  sat  in." 

"  Who  sent  for  him?     The  police?  " 

"  No,  it  was  Mr.  Twombley  of  Crofton.     He 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       51 

said  we  owed  it  to  'er  ladyship  to  hemploy  the 
best  talent." 

"  Where  is  the  detective  now?  " 

"  'E  's  in  the  long  drawing-room  with  Mr. 
Twombley." 

"  Has  the  inquest  been  held?  " 

"  No,  the  corpse  won't  be  sat  on  till  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Show  me  the  way  to  the  drawing-room.  I 
don't  quite  remember  it." 

The  butler  preceded  him  across  the  hall  and 
throwing  open  a  door  announced  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  Lord  Wilmersley." 

The  effect  was  electrical.  Four  men  who  had 
been  deep  in  conversation  turned  and  stared 
open-mouthed  at  Cyril,  and  one  of  them,  a  short 
fat  man  in  clerical  dress,  dropped  his  teacup  in 
his  agitation. 

"  Who?  "  bellowed  a  tall,  florid  old  gentleman. 

The  butler,  secretly  delighted  at  having  pro- 
duced such  a  sensation,  closed  the  door  discreetly 
after  him. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  are  surprised  to  see  me. 
You  thought  I  was  with  my  regiment." 

"  So  you  're  the  little  shaver  I  knew  as  a  boy? 


52  Who  ? 

Well,  you  've  grown  a  bit  since  then.  Hah,  hah." 
Then,  recollecting  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion, 
he  subdued  his  voice.  "  I  'm  Twombley,  friend 
of  your  father's,  you  know,  and  this  is  Mr. 
James,  your  vicar,  and  this  is  Mr.  Tinker,  the 
coroner,  and  this  is  Judson,  celebrated  detec- 
tive, you  know.  I  sent  for  him.  Hope  you 
approve?  Terrible  business,  what?" 

"  It  has  been  a  great  shock  to  me,  and  I  am 
very  glad  to  have  Judson's  assistance,"  replied 
Cyril,  casting  a  searching  and  apprehensive 
glance  at  the  detective. 

He  was  a  small,  clean-shaven  man  with  short, 
grey  hair,  grey  eyebrows,  grey  complexion, 
dressed  in  a  grey  tweed  suit.  His  features  were 
peculiarly  indefinite.  His  half-closed  eyes,  lying 
in  the  shadow  of  the  overhanging  brows,  were 
fringed  with  light  eyelashes  and  gave  no  accent 
to  his  expressionless  face. 

At  all  events,  thought  Cyril,  he  doesn't  look 
very  alarming,  but  then,  you  never  can  tell. 

"  I  must  condole  with  you  on  the  unexpected 
loss  of  a  relative,  who  was  in  every  way  an 
honour  to  his  name  and  his  position,"  said  the 
vicar,  holding  out  a  podgy  hand. 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       53 

Cyril  was  so  taken  aback  at  this  unexpected 
tribute  to  his  cousin's  memory  that  he  was  only 
able  to  murmur  a  discreet  "  Thank  you." 

"  The  late  Lord  Wilmersley,"  said  the  coroner, 
"  was  a  most  public-spirited  man  and  is  a  loss 
to  the  county." 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so,"  assented  Mr.  Twombley. 
"  Gave  a  good  bit  to  the  hunt,  though  he  never 
hunted.  Pretty  decent  of  him,  you  know.  You 
hunt,  of  course?  " 

"  I  have  n't  done  much  of  it  lately,  but  I  shall 
certainly  do  so  in  future." 

"  Your  cousin,"  interrupted  the  vicar,  "  was 
a  man  of  deep  religious  convictions.  His  long 
stay  in  heathen  lands  had  only  strengthened  his 
devotion  to  the  true  faith.  His  pew  was  never 
empty  and  he  subscribed  liberally  to  many 
charities." 

By  Jove,  thought  poor  Cyril,  his  cousin  had 
evidently  been  a  paragon.  It  seemed  incredible. 

"  I  see  it  will  be  difficult  to  fill  his  place,"  he 
said  aloud.  "But  I  will  do  my  best." 

Twombley  clapped  him  heartily  on  the  back. 
"  Oh,  you  '11  do  all  right,  my  boy,  and  then,  you 
know,  you  '11  open  the  castle.  The  place  has 


54  Who? 

been  like  a  prison  since  Wilmersley's  marriage." 

"  No  one  regretted  that  as  much  as  Lord  Wil- 
mersley,"  said  the  vicar.  "  He  often  spoke  to  me 
about  it.  But  he  had  the  choice  between  plac- 
ing Lady  Wilmersley  in  an  institution  or  turning 
the  castle  into  an  asylum.  He  chose  the  latter 
alternative,  although  it  was  a  great  sacrifice.  I 
have  rarely  known  so  agreeable  a  man  or  one  so 
suited  to  shine  in  any  company.  It  was  un- 
pardonable of  Lady  Upton  to  have  allowed  him 
to  marry  without  warning  him  of  her  grand- 
daughter's condition.  But  he  never  had  a  word 
of  blame  for  her." 

"  It  was  certainly  a  pity  he  did  not  have  Lady 
Wilmersley  put  under  proper  restraint.  If  he 
had  only  done  so,  he  would  be  alive  now,"  said 
the  coroner. 

"  So  you  believe  that  she  murdered  his  lord- 
ship? " 

"  Undoubtedly.  Who  else  could  have  done  it? 
Who  else  had  a  motive  for  doing  it.  My  theory 
is  that  her  ladyship  wanted  to  escape,  that  his 
lordship  tried  to  prevent  her,  and  so  she  shot 
him.  Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Mr.  Judson?  " 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  express  an  opinion 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       55 

at  present.  I  have  not  had  time  to  collect 
enough  data,"  replied  the  detective  pompously. 

"  He  puts  on  such  a  lot  of  side,  I  believe  he 's 
an  ass,"  thought  Cyril,  heaving  a  sigh  of  relief. 
"  But  what  about  the  missing  jewels?  "  he  said 
aloud.  "  Their  disappearance  certainly  provides 
a  motive  for  the  crime?  " 

"  Yes,  but  only  Lord  and  Lady  Wilmersley 
knew  the  combination  of  the  safe." 

"  Who  says  so  ?  " 

"  All  the  servants  are  agreed  as  to  that.  Be- 
sides, a  burglar  would  hardly  have  overlooked 
the  drawers  of  Lord  Wilmersley's  desk,  which 
contained  about  £300  in  notes." 

"  The  thief  may  not  have  got  as  far  as  the 
library.  Lady  Wilmersley  occupied  the  blue 
room,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  at  all.  At  the  time  of  his  marriage 
Lord  Wilmersley  ordered  a  suite  of  rooms  on 
the  ground  floor  prepared  for  his  bride's  recep- 
tion," replied  the  vicar. 

"And  this  swimming-bath?  Where  is  that? 
There  was  none  when  I  was  here  as  a  child." 

"  No,  it  was  built  for  Lady  Wilmersley  and 
adjoins  her  private  apartments,"  said  the  vicar. 


56  Who? 

"  But  all  these  rooms  are  on  the  ground  floor. 
It  must  be  an  easy  matter  to  enter  them. 
Consequently " 

"  Easy !  "  interrupted  Twombley ;  "  not  a  bit 
of  it!  But  come  and  see  for  yourself." 

Crossing  the  hall  they  paused  at  a  door. 
"  Now  this  door  and  that  one  next  to  it,  which 
is  the  door  of  Lady  Wilmersley's  bedroom,"  said 
the  coroner,  "  are  the  only  ones  in  this  wing 
which  communicate  with  the  rest  of  the  castle, 
and  both  were  usually  kept  locked,  not  only  at 
night,  but  during  the  daytime.  You  will  please 
notice,  my  lord,"  continued  the  coroner,  as  they 
entered  the  library,  "  that  both  doors  are  fitted 
with  an  ingenious  device,  by  means  of  which 
they  can  be  bolted  and  unbolted  from  several 
seats  in  this  room  and  from  the  divans  in  the 
swimming-bath.  Only  in  the  early  morning  were 
the  housemaids  admitted  to  these  rooms;  after 
that  no  one  but  Mustapha,  Lord  Wilmersley's 
Turkish  valet,  ever  crossed  the  threshold,  unless 
with  his  lordship's  express  permission." 

Twombley  hurried  him  through  the  library. 

"You  can  look  this  room  over  later;  I  want 
you  first  to  see  the  swimming-bath." 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       57 

Cyril  found  himself  in  an  immense  and  lofty 
hall,  constructed  entirely  of  white  marble  and 
lighted  by  innumerable  jewelled  lamps,  whose 
multi-coloured  lights  were  reflected  in  the  trans- 
parent waters  of  a  pool,  from  the  middle  of 
which  rose  and  splashed  a  fountain.  Divans 
covered  with  soft  cushions  and  several  small 
tables  laden  with  pipes,  houkahs,  cigarettes,  etc., 
were  placed  at  intervals  around  the  sides  of  the 
bath.  On  one  of  the  tables,  Cyril  noticed  that 
two  coffee-cups  were  still  standing  and  by  the 
side  of  a  divan  lay  a  long  Turkish  pipe.  The 
floor  was  strewn  with  rare  skins.  A  profusion 
of  tropical  plants  imparted  a  heavy  perfume  to 
the  air,  which  was  warm  and  moist.  Cyril 
blinked  his  eyes;  he  felt  as  if  he  had  sud- 
denly been  transported  to  the  palace  of 
Aladdin. 

"  Rum  place,  what?  "  said  Twombley,  looking 
about  him  with  evident  disfavour.  "  To  be  shut 
in  here  for  three  years  would  be  enough  to  drive 
any  one  crazy,  I  say." 

"  You  will  notice,"  said  the  coroner,  "  that  the 
only  entrance  to  the  bath  is  through  the  library 
or  her  ladyship's  bedroom.  No  one  could  have 


58  Who  ? 

let  himself  down  through  the  skylight,  as  it  is 
protected  by  iron  bars." 

"  I  see." 

"  It  was  here  and  in  the  library  that  Lord 
Wilmersley  spent  his  time,  and  it  was  here  in 
the  right-hand  corner  of  the  bath  that  his  body 
was  discovered  this  morning  by  one  of  the  house- 
maids. The  spot,  as  you  see,  is  exactly  opposite 
her  ladyship's  door  and  that  door  was  found 
open,  just  as  it  stands  at  present.  Now  the 
housemaids  swear  that  they  always  found  it 
closed  and  it  is  their  belief  that  his  lordship 
used  to  lock  her  ladyship  in  her  rooms  before 
retiring  to  his  own  quarters  for  the  night.  At 
all  events  they  were  never  allowed  to  see  her 
ladyship  or  enter  her  apartments  unless  his  lord- 
ship or  her  ladyship's  maid  was  also  present." 

"  At  about  what  time  is  Lord  Wilmersley  sup- 
posed to  have  been  killed?"  asked  Cyril  after  a 
slight  pause. 

"  Judging  from  the  condition  of  the  body,  the 
doctor  thinks  that  the  murder  was  committed 
between  eleven  and  twelve  P.M.,"  replied  the 
coroner;  "  and  whoever  fired  the  shot  must  have 
stood  five  or  six  feet  from  Lord  Wilmersley;  in 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       59 

all  probability,  therefore,  in  the  doorway  of  the 
bedroom.  This  is  the  room.  Nothing  has  been 
touched,  and  you  see  that  neither  here  nor  in 
the  swimming-bath  are  there  signs  of  a  struggle." 

"  The  door  leading  into  the  hall  was  found 
locked?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  Then  how  did  the  house-man  enter?  n 

"  By  means  of  a  pass-key." 

"  Where  does  that  other  door  lead  to?  "  asked 
Cyril,  pointing  to  a  door  to  his  left. 

"  Into  the  sitting-room,"  replied  the  coroner, 
throwing  it  open.  "  It  was  here,  I  am  told,  that 
Lady  Wilmersley  usually  spent  the  morning." 

It  was  a  large,  pleasant  room  panelled  in 
white.  A  few  faded  pastels  of  by-gone  beauties 
ornamented  the  walls.  A  gilt  cage  in  which 
slumbered  a  canary  hung  in  one  of  the  windows. 
Cyril  looked  eagerly  about  him  for  some  traces 
of  its  late  occupant's  personality ;  but  except  for 
a  piece  of  unfinished  needlework,  lying  on  a 
small  table  near  the  fireplace,  there  was  nothing 
to  betray  the  owner's  taste  or  occupations. 

"  And  there  is  no  way  out  of  this  room  except 
through  the  bedroom?" 


60  Who? 

"  None." 

"  No  secret  door?  " 

"  No,  my  lord.  Mr.  Judson  thought  of  that 
and  has  tapped  the  walls." 

"  But  the  windows?  " 

"  These  windows  as  well  as  those  in  the  bed- 
room are  fitted  with  heavy  iron  bars.  Look," 
he  said. 

"  Who  was  the  last  person  known  to  have  seen 
Lord  Wilmersley  alive?  " 

"  Mustapha.  He  carried  coffee  into  the  swim- 
ming-bath at  a  quarter  past  nine,  as  was  his 
daily  custom." 

"  And  he  noticed  nothing  unusual?  " 

"  Nothing.  And  he  swears  that  in  passing 
out  through  the  library  he  heard  the  bolt  click 
behind  him." 

"  What  sort  of  a  person  is  Mustapha?  " 

"  Lord  Wilmersley  brought  him  back  with  him 
when  he  returned  from  the  East.  He  had  the 
greatest  confidence  in  him,"  said  the  vicar. 

"  Do  you  know  what  his  fellow-servants 
think  of  him,"  inquired  Cyril,  addressing  the 
coroner. 

"  He  kept  very  much  to  himself.     I  fancy  he 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       61 

is  not  a  favourite,  but  no  one  has  actually  said 
anything  against  him." 

"  Insular  prejudice !  "  cried  the  vicar.  "  How 
few  of  us  are  able  to  overcome  our  inborn  British 
suspicion  of  the  foreigner !  " 

"  Now  will  you  examine  the  library?  "  asked 
the  coroner.  "  See,  here  is  his  lordship's  desk. 
There  are  the  drawers  in  which  the  £300  were 
found,  and  yet  any  one  could  have  picked  that 
lock." 

"  Where  does  that  door  lead  to?  " 

"  Into  Lord  Wilmersley's  bedroom,  the  win- 
dow of  which  is  also  provided  with  iron  bars." 

"  And  that  room  has  no  exit  but  this?  " 

"  None,  my  lord.  If  the  murderer  came  from 
outside,  he  must  have  got  in  through  one  of 
these  windows,  which  are  the  only  ones  in  this 
wing  which  have  no  protection,  and  this  one  was 
found  ajar — but  it  may  have  been  used  only  as 
an  exit,  not  as  an  entrance." 

Cyril  looked  out.  Even  a  woman  would  have 
no  difficulty  in  jumping  to  the  ground. 

"  But  it  could  n't  have  been  a  burglar,"  said 
the  vicar,  "  for  what  object  could  a  thief  have 
for  destroying  a  portrait?  " 


62  Who  ? 

"  Destroying  what  portrait?  "  inquired  Cyril. 

"  Oh,  did  n't  you  know  that  her  ladyship's 
portrait  was  found  cut  into  shreds?  "  said  the 
coroner. 

"  And  a  pair  of  Lady  Wilmersley's  scissors 
lay  on  the  floor  in  front  of  it,"  added  the  vicar. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  cried  Cyril. 

Going  to  a  corner  of  the  room  the  vicar  pulled 
aside  a  velvet  curtain  behind  which  hung  the 
wreck  of  a  picture.  The  canvas  was  slashed 
from  top  to  bottom.  No  trace  of  the  face  was 
left;  only  a  small  piece  of  fair  hair  was  still 
distinguishable. 

Cyril  grasped  Twombley's  arm. 
Fair !     And  his  mysterious  protegee  was  dark ! 

"  What — what  was  the  colour  of  Lady  Wil- 
mersley's hair? "  He  almost  stuttered  with 
excitement. 

"  A  very  pale  yellow,"  replied  the  coroner. 

"  Why  do  you  ask?  "  inquired  the  detective. 


On  the  Scene  of  the  Tragedy       63 

For  the  convenience  of  my  readers  I  give  a 
diagram  of  Lord  and  Lady  Wilmersley's  apart- 
ments. 


0 

A 

D- 

•a 

POOL 

I> 

X 

L/^ 

0 

.  s  , 

( 

\6         6, 

A 

.2,         .2.         ,2^ 

/5 

LIBRARY 

LADY 

r~4  i 

WILMERSLEY'S 

BEDROOM 

LADY 

-i 

<7 

J 

A 

WILMERSLEY'S 

LORD 

1                                              1 

ROOM 

WILMERSLEY'S 

BEDROOM 

X.  Spot  where  Lord  Wilmersley's  body  was  found. 

1.  Doors  locked  and  barred. 

2.  Windows  all  barred. 

3.  Window  without  bars  found  open. 

4.  Library  table. 

5.  Lady  Wilmersley's  portrait. 

6.  Doors  leading  to  swimming-pool. 

7.  Doors  leading  from  hall. 

8.  Divans. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   DETECTIVE    DETECTS 

"  A  VERY  pale  yellow ! "  Cyril  was  dumb- 
founded. 

Every  fact,  every  inference  had  seemed  to 
prove  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  his 
protegee  and  Lady  Wilmersley  were  one  and 
the  same  person.  Was  it  possible  that  she  could 
have  worn  a  wig?  No,  for  he  remembered  that 
in  lifting  her  veil,  he  had  inadvertently  pulled 
her  hair  a  little  and  had  admired  the  way  it 
grew  on  her  temples. 

"  Why  does  the  colour  of  her  ladyship's  hair 
interest  you,  my  lord? "  again  inquired  the 
detective. 

Cyril  blushed  with  confusion  as  he  realised 
that  all  three  men  were  watching  him  with  evi- 
dent astonishment.  What  a  fool  he  was  not  to 

have  been  able  to  conceal  his  surprise!     What 

64 


The  Detective  Detects  65 

answer  could  he  give  them?  However,  as  it 
was  not  his  cousin's  murderess  he  was  hiding, 
he  felt  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  detective, 
so  ignoring  him  he  turned  to  Mr.  Twombley  and 
said  with  a  forced  laugh: 

"  I  must  be  losing  my  mind,  for  I  distinctly 
remember  hearing  a  friend  of  mine  rave  about 
Lady  Wilmersley's  dark  beauty."  Kather  a 
fishy  explanation,  thought  poor  Cyril ;  but  really 
his  powers  of  invention  were  exhausted.  Would 
it  satisfy  them? 

He  glanced  sharply  at  the  detective.  The 
latter  was  no  longer  looking  at  him,  but  was 
contemplating  his  watch-chain  with  absorbed 
attention. 

"  Hah,  hah !  Kather  a  joke,  what?  "  laughed 
Twombley.  "  Never  had  seen  her,  I  suppose ;  no 
one  ever  did,  you  know,  except  out  driving." 

"  It  was  either  a  silly  joke  or  my  memory  is 
in  a  bad  shape,"  said  Cyril.  "  Luckily  it  is  a 
matter  of  no  consequence.  What  is  of  vital  im- 
portance, however,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the 
detective,  "  is  that  her  ladyship  should  be  secured 
immediately.  No  one  is  safe  while  she  is  still 
at  large," 


66  Who  ? 

"  It  is  unfortunate,"  replied  the  detective, 
"  that  no  photograph  of  her  ladyship  can  be 
found,  but  we  have  telegraphed  her  description 
all  over  the  country." 

"  What  is  her  description,  by  the  way?  " 

"  Here  it  is,  my  lord,"  said  Judson,  handing 
Cyril  a  printed  sheet. 

"  Height,  5  feet  3 ;  weight,  about  9  stone  2 ; 
hair,  very  fair,  inclined  to  be  wavy;  nose, 
straight;  mouth,  small;  eyes,  blue;  face,  oval," 
read  Cyril.  "  Well,  I  suppose  that  will  have  to 
do,  but  of  course  that  description  would  fit  half 
the  women  in  England." 

"  That 's  the  trouble,  my  lord." 

"  Mr.  TwTombley,  when  you  said  just  now  that 
no  one  knew  her,  did  you  mean  that  literally?  " 

"  Nobody  in  the  county  did;  I  'm  sure  of  that.'' 

"  And  you,  Mr.  James?  Is  it  possible  that 
even  you  never  saw  her?  " 

"  I  have  never  spoken  to  her." 

"  Then  so  far  as  you  know,  the  only  person 
outside  the  castle  she  could  communicate  with 
was  the  doctor.  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  " 

"  What  doctor  are  you  speaking  of?  "  inquired 
the  vicar. 


The  Detective  Detects  67 

"  Why,  the  doctor  who  had  charge  of  her  case, 
of  course,"  replied  Cyril  impatiently. 

"  I  never  heard  of  her  having  a  doctor." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Wilmersley  kept 
her  in  confinement  without  orders  from  a 
physician?  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  Of  course  not.  There 
must  have  been  some  one,"  faltered  the  vicar  a 
trifle  abashed. 

"  You  never,  however,  inquired  by  what  au- 
thority he  kept  his  wife  shut  up?  " 

"  I  never  insulted  Lord  Wilmersley  by  ques- 
tioning the  wisdom  of  his  conduct  or  the  in- 
tegrity of  his  motives,  and  I  repeat  that  there 
was  undoubtedly  some  physician  in  attendance 
on  Lady  Wilmersley,  only  I  do  not  happen  to 
know  who  he  is." 

"  Well,  I  must  clear  this  matter  up  at  once. 
Please  ring  the  bell,  Judson." 

A  minute  later  the  butler  appeared. 

"Who  was  her  ladyship's  physician?"  de- 
manded Cyril. 

"  My  lady  never  'ad  one ;  leastways  not  till 
yesterday." 

"  Yesterday?  " 


68  Who  ? 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  yesterday  afternoon  two  gentle- 
men drove  up  in  a  fly  and  one  of  them  says 
'is  name  is  Dr.  Brown  and  that  'e  was  expected, 
and  'is  lordship  said  as  how  I  was  to  show  them 
in  here,  and  so  I  did." 

"  You  think  they  came  to  see  her  ladyship?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  and  at  dinner  her  ladyship 
seemed  very  much  upset.  She  did  n't  eat  a 
morsel,  though  'is  lordship  urged  'er  ever  so." 

"  But  why  should  a  doctor's  visit  upset  her 
ladyship?  " 

The  butler  pursed  his  lips  and  looked  mys- 
terious. "  I  can't  say,  my  lord." 

"  Nonsense,  you  've  some  idea  in  your  head. 
Out  with  it !  " 

"  Well,  my  lord,  me  and  Charles,  we  thought 
as  she  was  afraid  they  were  going  to  lock  'er  up." 

Cyril  started  slightly. 

"  Ah !  If  they  had  done  so  long  ago ! "  ex- 
claimed the  vicar,  clasping  his  hands. 

"  But,  sir,  her  ladyship  was  n't  crazy !  They 
all  say  so,  but  it  isn't  true.  Me  and  Charles 
'ave  watched  'er  at  table  day  in  and  day  out 
and  we  're  willing  to  swear  that  she  is  n't  any 
more  crazy  than — than  me!  Please  excuse  the 


The  Detective  Detects  69 

liberty,  but  I  never  thought  'er  ladyship  was 
treated  right,  I  never  did." 

"  Why,  you  told  me  yourself  that  his  lordship 
was  devoted  to  her." 

"  So  'e  was,  my  lord,  so  'e  was."  The  man 
shuffled  uneasily. 

"  If  her  ladyship  is  not  insane,  why  do  you 
think  his  lordship  kept  her  a  prisoner  here?  " 

"  Well,  my  lord,  some  people  'ave  thought  that 
it  was  jealousy  as  made  him  do  it." 

"  That,"  exclaimed  the  vicar,  "  is  a  vile 
calumny,  which  I  have  done  my  best  to  refute." 

"  So  jealousy  was  the  motive  generally  as- 
cribed to  my  cousin's  treatment  of  his  wife?  " 

"  Not  generally,  far  from  it ;  but  I  regret  to 
say  that  there  are  people  who  professed  to 
believe  it." 

"  Did  her  ladyship  have  a  nurse? "  asked 
Cyril,  addressing  the  butler. 

"  No,  my  lord,  only  a  maid." 

"  Mrs.  Valdriguez  is  a  very  respectable  person, 
my  lord." 

"  Mrs.  What?  "  demanded  Cyril. 

"  Mrs.  Valdriguez.'' 

"  What  a  queer  name." 


70  Who  ? 

"  Perhaps,  my  lord,  I  don't  pronounce  it  just 
right.  Mrs.  Valdriguez  is  Spanish." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  she  was  here  first  in  the  time 
of  Lord  Wilmersley's  mother,  and  'is  lordship 
brought  'er  back  again  when  he  returned  from 
'is  'oneymoon.  Lady  Wilmersley  never  left 
these  rooms  without  'aving  either  'is  lordship, 
Mustapha,  or  Valdriguez  with  'er." 

"  Very  good,  Douglas,  you  can  go  now." 

"  A  pretty  state  of  things ! "  cried  Cyril  when 
the  door  closed  behind  the  butler.  "  Here  in 
civilised  England  a  poor  young  creature  is  kept 
in  confinement  with  a  Spanish  woman  and  a 
Turk  to  watch  over  her,  and  no  one  thinks  of 
demanding  an  investigation !  It 's  monstrous !  " 

"  My  boy,  you  're  right.  Never  liked  the  man 
myself — confess  it  now — but  I  did  n't  know  any- 
thing against  him.  Pretty  difficult  to  interfere, 
what?  Never  occurred  to  me  to  do  so." 

"  I  am  deeply  pained  by  your  attitude  to  your 
unfortunate  cousin,  who  paid  with  his  life  for 
his  devotion  to  an  afflicted  woman.  I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  say  that  your  suspicions  are  un- 
worthy of  you.  I  must  go  now;  I  have  some 


The  Detective  Detects  71 

parochial  duties  to  attend  to."  And  with  scant 
ceremony  the  vicar  stalked  out  of  the  room. 

"  It 's  getting  late,  I  see.  Must  be  off  too. 
Can't  be  late  for  dinner — wife,  you  know.  Why 
don't  you  come  with  me — gloomy  here — delighted 
to  put  you  up.  Do  come,"  urged  Twombley. 

"  Thanks  awfully,  not  to-night.  I  'm  dead 
beat.  It 's  awfully  good  of  you  to  suggest  it, 
though." 

"  Not  at  all ;  sorry  you  won't  come.  See  you 
at  the  inquest,"  said  Twombley  as  he  took  his 
departure  followed  by  the  coroner. 

Cyril  remained  where  they  left  him.  He  was 
too  weary  to  move.  Before  him  on  the  desk  lay 
his  cousin's  blotter.  It 's  white  surface  still  bore 
the  impress  of  the  latter's  thick,  sprawling  hand- 
writing. That  chair  not  so  many  hours  ago  had 
held  his  unwieldy  form.  The  murdered  man's 
presence  seemed  to  permeate  the  room.  Cyril 
shuddered  involuntarily.  The  heavy,  perfume- 
laden  air  stifled  him.  What  was  that?  He 
could  hear  nothing  but  the  tumultuous  beating 
of  his  own  heart.  Yet  he  was  sure,  warned  by 
some  mysterious  instinct,  that  he  was  not  alone. 
Behind  him  stood — something.  He  longed  to 


72  Who  ? 

move,  but  terror  riveted  him  to  the  spot.  A 
vision  of  his  cousin's  baleful  eyes  rose  before 
him  with  horrible  vividness.  He  could  feel  their 
vindictive  glare  scorching  him.  Was  he  going 
mad?  Was  he  a  coward?  No,  he  must  face  the 
— thing — come  what  might.  Throwing  back  his 
head  defiantly,  he  wheeled  around — the  detec- 
tive was  at  his  elbow!  Cyril  gave  a  gasp  of 
relief  and  wriped  the  tell-tale  perspiration  from 
his  forehead.  He  had  completely  forgotten  the 
fellow.  What  a  shocking  state  his  nerves  were  in ! 
"  Can  you  spare  me  a  few  minutes,  my  lord?  " 
Whenever  the  detective  spoke,  Cyril  had  the 
curious  impression  as  of  a  voice  issuing  from  a 
fog.  So  grey,  so  effaced,  so  absolutely  character- 
less was  the  man's  exterior!  His  voice,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  excessively  individual.  There 
lurked  in  it  a  suggestion  of  assertiveness,  of 
aggressiveness  even.  Cyril  was  conscious  of  a 
sudden  dread  of  this  strong,  insistent  person- 
ality, lying  as  it  were  at  ambush  within  that 
envelope  of  a  body,  that  envelope  which  he  felt 
he  could  never  penetrate,  which  gave  no  indica- 
tion whether  it  concealed  a  friend  or  enemy,  a 
saint  or  villain. 


The  Detective  Detects  73 

"  I  shall  not  detain  you  long,"  Judson  added, 
as  Cyril  did  not  answer  immediately.. 

"  Come  into  the  drawing-room,"  said  Cyril, 
leading  the  way  there. 

Thank  God,  he  could  breathe  freely  once  more, 
thought  Cyril,  as  he  flung  himself  into  the  com- 
fortable depths  of  a  chintz-covered  sofa.  How 
delightfully  wholesome  and  commonplace  was 
this  room !  The  air,  a  trifle  chill,  notwithstand- 
ing the  coal  fire  burning  on  the  hearth,  was  like 
balm  to  his  fevered  senses.  His  very  soul  felt 
cleansed  and  refreshed.  He  no  longer  under- 
stood the  terror  which  had  so  lately  possessed 
him.  He  looked  at  Judson.  How  could  he  ever 
have  dignified  this  remarkably  unremarkable 
little  man  with  his  pompous  manner  into  a  mys- 
terious and  possibly  hostile  force.  The  thing 
was  absurd. 

"  Sit  down,  Judson,"  said  Cyril  carelessly. 

"  My  lord,  am  I  not  right  in  supposing  that 
I  am  unknown  to  you?  By  reputation,  I  mean." 

"  Quite,"  Cyril  candidly  acknowledged. 

"  Ah !  I  thought  so.  Let  me  tell  you  then, 
my  lord,  that  I  am.  the  receptacle  of  the  secrets 
of  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  aristocracy." 


74  Who? 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Cyril.  I  '11  take  good  care, 
he  thought,  that  mine  don't  swell  the  number. 

"  That  being  the  case,  it  is  clear  that  my 
reputation  for  discretion  is  unassailable.  You 
see  the  force  of  that  argument,  my  lord?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Cyril  wearily. 

"  Anything,  therefore,  which  I  may  discover 
during  the  course  of  this  investigation,  you  may 
rest  assured  will  be  kept  absolutely  secret."  He 
paused  a  moment.  "  You  can,  therefore,  confide 
in  me  without  fear,"  continued  the  detective. 

Cyril  was  surprised  and  a  little  startled. 
What  did  the  man  know? 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  have  anything  to 
confide?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  quite  obvious,  my  lord,  that  you  are 
holding  something  back — something  which  would 
explain  your  attitude  towards  Lady  Wilmersley." 

"  I  don't  follow  you,"  replied  Cyril,  on  his 
guard. 

"  You  have  given  every  one  to  understand  that 
you  have  never  seen  her  ladyship.  You  take  up 
a  stranger's  cause  very  warmly,  my  lord." 

"  I  trust  I  shall  always  espouse  the  cause  of 
every  persecuted  woman." 


The  Detective  Detects  75 

"  But  how  are  you  sure  that  she  was  perse- 
cuted? Every  one  praises  his  lordship's  devo- 
tion to  her.  He  gave  her  everything  she  could 
wish  for  except  liberty.  If  she  was  insane,  his 
conduct  deserves  great  praise." 

"  But  I  am  sure  she  is  not." 

"  But  you  yourself  urged  me  to  secure  her  as 
soon  as  possible  because  you  were  afraid  she 
might  do  further  harm,"  Judson  reminded  him. 

"  That  was  before  I  heard  Douglas's  testimony. 
He  has  seen  her  daily  for  three  years  and  swears 
she  is  sane." 

"  And  the  opinion  of  an  ignorant  servant  is 
sufficient  to  make  you  condemn  his  lordship 
without  further  proof?  " 

Cyril  moved  uneasily. 

"  If  Lady  Wilmersley  is  perfectly  sane,  it 
seems  to  me  incredible  that  she  did  not  manage 
to  escape  years  ago.  A  note  dropped  out  of  her 
carriage  would  have  brought  the  whole  country- 
side to  her  rescue.  Why,  she  had  only  to  appeal 
to  this  very  same  butler,  who  is  convinced  of 
her  sanity,  and  Lord  Wilmersley  could  not  have 
prevented  her  from  leaving  the  castle.  Public 
opinion  would  have  protected  her." 


76  Who? 

"  That  is  true,"  acknowledged  Cyril,  "  but  her 
spirit  may  have  been  broken." 

"  What  was  there  to  break  it?  We  hear  only 
of  his  lordship's  almost  excessive  devotion.  No, 
my  lord,  I  can't  help  thinking  that  you  are  judg- 
ing both  Lord  and  Lady  Wilmersley  by  facts  of 
which  I  am  ignorant." 

Cyril  did  not  know  what  to  answer.  He  had 
at  first  championed  Lady  Wilmersley  because  he 
had  believed  her  to  be  his  protegee,  but  now 
that  it  had  been  proved  that  she  was  not,  why 
was  he  still  convinced  that  she  had  in  some  way 
been  a  victim  of  her  husband's  cruelty?  He  had 
to  acknowledge  that  beyond  a  vague  distrust  of 
his  cousin  he  had  not  only  no  adequate  reason, 
but  no  reason  at  all,  for  his  suspicions. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  said  at  last ;  "I  am 
withholding  nothing  that  could  in  any  way  assist 
you  to  unravel  this  mystery.  I  confess  I  neither 
liked  nor  trusted  my  cousin.  I  had  no  special 
reason.  It  was  simply  a  case  of  Dr.  Fell.  I 
know  no  more  than  you  do  of  his  treatment 
of  her  ladyship.  But  does  n't  the  choice  of  a 
Turk  and  a  Spaniard  as  attendants  on  Lady 
Wilmersley  seem  to  you  open  to  criticism?  " 


The  Detective  Detects  77 

"  Not  necessarily,  my  lord.  We  trust  most 
those  we  know  best.  Lord  Wilmersley  had  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  with  Turks  and  Span- 
iards. It  therefore  seems  to  me  quite  natural 
that  when  it  came  to  selecting  guardians  for  her 
ladyship,  he  should  have  chosen  a  man  and  a 
woman  he  had  presumably  known  for  some  years, 
whose  worth  he  had  proved,  whose  fidelity  he 
could  rely  on." 

"  That  sounds  plausible,"  agreed  Cyril ;  "  still 
I  can't  help  thinking  it  very  peculiar,  to  say  the 
least,  that  Lady  Wilmersley  was  not  under  a 
doctor's  care." 

"  Her  ladyship  may  have  been  too  unbalanced 
to  mingle  with  people,  and  yet  not  in  a  condi- 
tion to  require  medical  attention.  Such  cases 
are  not  uncommon." 

"  True,  and  yet  I  have  a  feeling  that  Douglas 
was  right,  when  he  assured  us  that  her  ladyship 
is  not  insane.  You  discredit  his  testimony  on 
the  ground  that  he  is  an  ignorant  man.  But 
if  a  man  of  sound  common-sense  has  the  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  a  woman  daily  during  three 
years,  it  seems  to  me  that  his  opinion  cannot  be 
lightly  ignored.  You  never  knew  my  cousin. 


78  Who  ? 

Well,  I  did,  and  as  I  said  before,  he  was  a  man 
who  inspired  me  with  the  profoundest  distrust, 
although  I  cannot  cite  one  fact  to  justify  my 
aversion.  I  cannot  believe  that  he  ever  sacri- 
ficed himself  for  any  one  and  am  much  more 
inclined  to  credit  Douglas's  suggestion  that  it  was 
jealousy  which  led  him  to  keep  her  ladyship  in 
such  strict  seclusion.  But  why  waste  our  time 
in  idle  conjectures  when  it  is  so  easy  to  find  out 
the  truth?  Those  two  doctors  who  saw  her  yes- 
terday must  be  found.  If  they  are  men  of  good 
reputation,  of  course  I  shall  accept  their  report 
as  final." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord,  I  will  at  once  have  an 
advertisement  inserted  in  all  the  papers  asking 
them  to  communicate  with  us.  If  that  does  not 
fetch  them,  I  shall  employ  other  means  of  tracing 
them." 

"  Has  Lady  Upton,  her  ladyship's  grand- 
mother, been  heard  from?  " 

"  She  wired  this  morning  asking  for  further 
particulars.  Mr.  Twombley  answered  her,  I 
believe." 

A  slight  pause  ensued  during  which  Judson 
watched  Cyril  as  if  expecting  him  to  speak. 


The  Detective  Detects  79 

"  And  you  have  still  nothing  to  say  to  me, 
my  lord?  "  The  detective  spoke  with  evident 
disappointment. 

"  No,  what  else  should  I  have  to  say?  "  re- 
plied Cyril  with  some  surprise. 

"  That  is,  of  course,  for  you  to  judge,  my 
lord."  His  meaning  was  unmistakable.  Cyril 
flushed  angrily.  Was  it  possible  that  the  man 
dared  to  doubt  his  word?  Dared  to  disbelieve 
his  positive  assertion  that  he  knew  nothing  what- 
soever about  the  murder?  The  damnable — 
suddenly  he  remembered!  Remembered  the  lies 
he  had  been  so  glibly  telling  all  day.  Why 
should  any  one  believe  him  in  future?  His 
ignominy  was  probably  already  stamped  on  his 
face. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  replied  Cyril 
in  a  strangely  meek  voice. 

"  That  being  the  case,  I  'd  better  be  off,"  said 
Judson,  rising  slowly  from  his  chair. 

"  Where  are  you  going  now?  " 

"  I  can't  quite  tell,  my  lord.  It  is  my  in- 
tention to  vanish,  so  to  speak." 

"  Vanish." 

"  Yes,  my  lord.     I  work  best  in  the  dark ;  but 


8o  Who  ? 

you  will  hear  from  me  as  soon  as  I  have  some- 
thing definite  to  report." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  successful,"  said  Cyril. 

"  Thank  you ;  I  've  never  failed  so  far  in  any- 
think  I  have  undertaken.  I  must,  however, 
warn  you,  my  lord,  that  investigations  some- 
times lead  to  conclusions  which  no  one  could 
have  foreseen  when  they  were  started.  I  always 
make  a  point  of  reminding  my  employers  of  this 
possibility." 

What  the  devil  was  the  man  driving  at, 
thought  Cyril;  did  he  suspect  him  by  any 
chance?  That  would  be  really  too  absurd !  The 
man  was  an  ass. 

"  I  shall  never  quarrel  with  you  for  discover- 
ing the  truth,"  said  Cyril,  drawing  himself  up 
to  his  full  height  and  glaring  fiercely  down  at 
the  little  grey  man.  Then,  turning  abruptly  on 
his  heel  he  stalked  indignantly  out  of  the  room, 
slamming  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 


"  MY  lord." 

Cyril  shook  himself  reluctantly  awake. 

"  Sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  this  'as  just  come," 
said  Peter,  holding  out  a  tray  on  which  lay  an 
opened  telegram.  His  expression  was  so  tragic 
that  Cyril  started  up  and  seized  the  message. 

It  was  addressed  to  Peter  Thompkins,  Geral- 
ton  Castle,  Newhaven,  and  read :  "  Change  for 
the  better.  Your  presence  necessary."  Signed, 
"  Stuart-Smith." 

"  Why,  that  is  good  news !  "  cried  Cyril  greatly 
relieved.  "  What  are  you  pulling  such  a  long 
face  for?  " 

"  You  call  it  good  news  that  you  have  n't  got 
rid  of  that  young  woman  yet?  "  exclaimed  Peter. 
"  This  Stuart-Sinith,  whoever  he  may  be,  who  is 
wiring  you  to  come  to  'er,  thinks  she 's  your 

6  81 


82  Who  ? 

wife,  does  n't  he?  That  was  bad  enough  when 
you  were  just  Mr.  Crichton,  but  now  it 's  just 
hawful.  A  Lady  Wilmersley  can't  be  hid  as  a 
Mrs.  Crichton  could,  begging  your  pardon.  Oh, 
it  '11  all  come  out,  so  it  will,  and  you  '11  be  'ad 
up  for  bigamy,  like  as  not ! "  Peter  almost 
groaned. 

"  Nonsense !  As  soon  as  the  young  lady  re- 
covers, she  will  join  her  friends  and  no  one 
will  be  any  the  wiser." 

Peter  shook  his  head  incredulously. 

"  Well,  my  lord,  let 's  'ope  so !  But  what  an- 
swer am  I  to  send  to  this  telegram?  You  can't 
leave  the  castle  now." 

"  It  would  certainly  be  inconvenient,"  agreed 
his  master. 

"  If  you  did,  you  'd  be  followed,  my  lord." 

"What  do  you  mean?  The  police  can't  be 
such  fools  as  all  that." 

"  'T  is  n't  the  police,  my  lord.  It 's  those  men 
from  the  newspapers.  The  castle  is  full  of  them ; 
they  're  nosing  about  heverywhere ;  there  's  not 
one  of  us  as  has  n't  been  pestered  with  the  fel- 
lows. It 's  what  you  are  like,  what  are  you 
doing,  what  'ave  you  done,  and  a  lot  more  foolish 


The  Mysterious  Maid  83 

questions  hever  since  we  set  foot  here  yesterday 
afternoon.  And  '  we  '11  pay  you  well,'  they  say. 
Of  course,  I  've  not  opened  my  mouth  to  them, 
but  they  're  that  persistent,  they  '11  follow  you 
to  the  end  of  the  earth  if  you  should  leave  the 
castle  unexpectedly." 

This  was  a  complication  that  had  not  occurred 
to  Cyril,  and  yet  he  felt  he  ought  to  have  fore- 
seen it.  What  was  to  be  done?.  He  could  n't 
abandon  the  girl.  Suddenly  Stuart-Smith's 
stern  face  and  uncompromising  upper  lip  rose 
vividly  before  him.  Even  if  he  wished  to  do 
so,  the  doctor  would  never  allow  him  to  ignore 
his  supposed  wrife.  If  he  did  not  answer  his 
summons  in  person,  Smith  would  certainly  put 
the  worst  interpretation  on  his  absence.  He 
would  argue  that  only  a  brute  would  neglect  a 
wife  who  was  lying  seriously  ill  and  the  fact 
that  the  girl  had  been  flogged  could  also  be  re- 
membered against  him.  Dr.  Smith  was  capable 
of  taking  drastic  measures  to  force  him  into 
performing  what  he  considered  the  latter 's 
obvious  duty. 

Cyril  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  had  only 
a  choice  of  evils.  If  he  went,  he  would  surely 


84  Who  ? 

be  followed  and  the  girl's  existence  and  hiding- 
place  discovered.  That  would  be  fatal  not  only 
to  him  but  to  her,  for  she  had  feared  detection 
above  all  things — why,  he  could  not  even  surmise 
— he  no  longer  even  cared;  but  he  had  promised 
to  protect  her  and  meant  to  do  so. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  he  did  not  go,  he  ran  the 
risk  of  the  doctor's  publishing  the  girl's  where- 
abouts. Still,  it  was  by  no  means  certain  he 
would  do  so,  and  if  he  wrote  Smith  a  diplomatic 
letter,  he  might  succeed  in  persuading  him  that 
it  wras  best  for  the  girl  if  he  stayed  away  a  day 
longer.  Yes,  that  was  the  thing  to  do.  Hasti- 
ly throwing  on  a  dressing-gown,  he  sat  down  at 
the  desk.  It  was  a  difficult  letter  to  write  and 
he  destroyed  many  sheets  before  he  was  finally 
satisfied.  This  was  the  result  of  his  efforts: 

"  DEAE  DR.  STUART-SMITH  : 

"  I  am  infinitely  relieved  that  your  patient  is 
better.  As  you  addressed  your  wire  here,  I 
gather  that  you  know  of  the  tragic  occurrence, 
which  has  kept  me  from  her  side.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  me  to  leave  before  the  funeral  without 
explaining  my  mission,  and  this  I  am  very  loath 


The  Mysterious  Maid  85 

to  do,  as  I  am  more  than  ever  anxious  to  keep 
her  malady  a  secret.  Dr.  Monet  has  always  be- 
lieved in  the  possibility  of  a  cure,  and  as  long 
as  there  is  a  chance  of  that,  I  am  sure  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  I  ought  to  make  every  sacri- 
fice to  protect  her  from  gossip.  If  she  did  re- 
cover and  her  illness  became  known,  it  would 
greatly  handicap  her  in  her  new  life.  Having 
to  stay  away  from  her  would  be  even  more  dis- 
tressing to  me  than  it  is  if  I  could  flatter  myself 
that  my  presence  would  have  a  good  effect  upon 
her.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  such  would  not 
be  the  case. 

"I  shall  return  to  London  late  to-morrow  after- 
noon and  will  telephone  you  immediately  on  my 
arrival. 

"  I  am  sending  this  by  a  trustworthy  servant, 
who  will  bring  me  your  answer.  I  am  most 
anxious  to  hear  what  you  think  of  your  patient's 
condition,  mentally  as  well  as  physically.  I  am 
sure  she  could  not  be  in  better  hands." 

Then  Cyril  hesitated.  What  should  he  sign 
himself?  Thompkins?  No,  he  wished  to  in- 
spire confidence;  his  own  name  would  be  better. 
So  with  a  firm  hand  he  wrote  "  Wilmersley." 


86  Who  ? 

It  was  the  first  time  lie  had  used  his  new 
signature  and  he  heartily  wished  it  had  not  been 
appended  to  such  a  document. 

"  Now,  Peter,"  he  said,  "  you  must  take  the 
next  train  to  London  and  carry  this  to  Dr. 
Stuart-Smith.  If  he  is  not  at  the  nursing  home, 
telephone  to  his  house  and  find  out  where  he  is. 
The  letter  must  be  delivered  as  soon  as  possible 
and  you  are  to  wait  for  a  reply.  If  the  doctor 
asks  you  any  questions,  answer  as  briefly  as 
possible.  In  order  to  avoid  comment  you  had 
better  let  it  be  known  that  you  are  going  up  to 
town  to  do  some  shopping  for  me.  Buy  some- 
thing— anything.  I  want  you  also  to  call  at  the 
lodgings  and  tell  them  we  shall  return  to-morrow. 
If  you  are  followed,  which  I  can't  believe  you 
will  be,  this  will  allay  suspicion.  Take  a  taxi 
and  get  back  as  soon  as  possible.  Don't  drive 
directly  to  the  Home.  You  may  mention  to  the 
doctor  that  I  am  extremely  anxious  about  Mrs. 
Thompkins." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord." 

"  Throw  the  sheets  I  have  scribbled  on  into  the 
fire  and  the  blotting  paper  as  well,"  ordered  Cyril. 

He  felt  rather  proud  of  having  thought  of  this 


The  Mysterious  Maid  87 

detail,  but  with  detectives  and  pressmen  prowl- 
ing around  he  must  run  no  risks.  It  was  with 
a  very  perturbed  mind  that  Cyril  finally  went 
down  to  breakfast. 

"  Mrs.  Eversley  would  like  to  speak  to  you, 
my  lord,  as  soon  as  convenient,"  said  Douglas 
as  his  master  rose  from  the  table.  Cyril  fan- 
cied he  detected  a  gleam  of  suppressed  excite- 
ment in  the  butler's  eye. 

"  I  '11  see  her  at  once,"  Cyril  answered. 

A  stout,  respectable-looking  woman  hesitated 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Come  in,  Mrs.  Eversley,"  cried  Cyril.  "  I  'm 
glad  to  see  you  again.  I  've  never  forgotten  you 
or  your  doughnuts." 

The  troubled  face  broke  into  a  pleased  smile 
as  the  woman  dropped  a  courtesy. 

"  It 's  very  kind  of  you  to  remember  them, 
my  lord,  very  kind  indeed,  and  glad  I  am  to  see 
you  again."  The  smile  vanished.  "  This  is  a 
terrible  business,  my  lord." 

"  Terrible,"  assented  Cyril. 

"  His  poor  lordship !  Mrs.  Valdriguez  has 
said  for  months  and  months  that  something  like 
this  was  sure  to  happen  some  day." 


88  Who  ? 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  prophesied  that 
her  ladyship  would  kill  his  lordship?  "  exclaimed 
Cyril. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  indeed  she  did !  It  made  me 
feel  that  queer  when  it  really  'appened." 

"  I  should  think  so.    It 's  most  extraordinary." 

"  But  begging  your  pardon,  my  lord,  there  is 
something  special  as  made  me  ask  to  speak  to 
you — something  I  thought  you  ought  to  know 
immediately." 

"  What  is  it?  "  Cyril  had  felt  that  some  new 
trouble  was  brewing. 

"  One  of  the  servants  has  disappeared,  my 
lord." 

"Disappeared?    How?    When?" 

"  Perhaps  I  'm  making  too  much  of  it,  but 
this  murder  has  that  upset  me  that  I  'm  afraid 
of  my  own  shadow  and  I  says  to  myself,  says 
I :  '  Don't  wait ;  go  and  tell  his  lordship  at  once 
and  he  '11  know  whether  it  is  important  or  not.' ' 

"  You  did  perfectly  right.  But  who  has  dis- 
appeared? " 

"  Priscilla  Prentice  and  perhaps  she  has  n't 
disappeared  at  all.  This  is  how  it  is :  The  day 
before  yesterday " 


The  Mysterious  Maid  89 

"  The  day  of  the  murder?  "  asked  Cyril. 

"  Yes,  my  lord.  Prentice  came  to  me  and 
asked  if  she  could  go  to  Newhaven  to  see  a 
cousin  she  has  there.  The  cousin  is  ill — least- 
ways so  she  told  me — and  she  wanted  as  a  great 
favour  to  be  allowed  to  spend  the  night  with 
her,  and  she  promised  to  come  back  by  the  car- 
rier early  next  morning.  It  seemed  all  right,  so 
I  gave  her  permission  and  off  she  goes.  Then 
yesterday  this  dreadful  thing  happened  and 
Prentice  went  clean  out  of  my  head.  I  never 
thought  of  her  again  till  breakfast  this  morning 
when  Mr.  Douglas  says  to  me :  { Why,  wher- 
ever is  Miss  Prentice?  '  You  could  'ave  knocked 
me  down  with  a  feather,  I  was  that  taken  aback ! 
So  I  says,  '  Whatever  can  'ave  happened  to 
her? ' " 

"  When  she  heard  of  the  murder,  she  may  have 
taken  fright.  She  may  be  waiting  to  return  to 
the  castle  till  the  inquest  and  funeral  are  over," 
suggested  Cyril. 

"  Then  she  ought  at  least  to  have  sent  word. 
Besides  she  should  have  got  back  before  she 
could  have  heard  of  the  murder." 

"  You  had  better  send  to  the  cousin's  and  find 


90  Who  ? 

out  if  she  is  there.  She  may  have  been  taken 
ill  and  had  nobody  to  send  a  message  by." 

"  We  none  of  us  know  whereabouts  this  cousin 
lives,  my  lord." 

"  Newhaven  is  not  a  large  place.  It  can't  be 
difficult  to  find  her." 

"  But  we  don't  know  her  name,  my  lord." 

"  That  certainly  complicates  matters.  How 
long  has  this  girl  been  at  the  castle?  " 

"  Six  months,  my  lord." 

"  Who  did  you  get  her  from?  " 

"  I  advertised  for  her,  my  lord.  Mrs.  Valdri- 
guez's  eyes  are  not  what  they  were  and  so  she 
'ad  to  have  somebody  to  do  the  mending.  I 
must  say  foreigners  sew  beautifully,  so  it  was 
some  time  before  I  could  get  any  one  whose  work 
suited  Mrs.  Valdriguez." 

"  What  references  did  the  girl  give?  " 

"  It  was  this  way,  my  lord.  She  's  very  young, 
and  this  is  her  first  place.  But  she  was  excel- 
lently recommended  by  Mr.  Vaughan,  vicar  of 
Plumtree,  who  wrote  that  she  was  a  most  re- 
spectable girl  and  that  he  could  vouch  for  her 
character.  Those  are  his  very  words,  my  lord." 

"  That  certainly  sounded  satisfactory." 


The  Mysterious  Maid  91 

"  I  'm  glad  you  think  so,  my  lord.  So  she 
came.  Such  a  nice  young  woman  she  seemed, 
so  'ard- working  and  conscientious ;  one  who  kept 
'erself  to  'erself;  never  a  word  with  the  men 
— never,  though  she  is  so  pretty." 

"  Oh,  she  is  pretty,  is  she?  "  A  faint  but 
horrible  suspicion  flashed  through  Cyril's  mind. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  as  pretty  as  a  picture." 

"  What  does  she  look  like?  " 

"  She  is  tall  and  slight  with  dark  hair  and 
blue  eyes,"  Mrs.  Eversley  answered.  She  was 
evidently  taken  aback  at  her  master's  interest  in 
a  servant's  appearance  and  a  certain  reserve 
crept  into  her  voice. 

"  Could  she — would  it  be  possible  to  mistake 
her  for  a  lady?  "  stammered  Cyril. 

Mrs.  Eversley  started. 

"  Well,  my  lord,  it 's  strange  you  should  ask 
that,  for  Douglas,  he  always  has  said,  '  Mark 
my  words,  Miss  Prentice  is  n't  what  she  seems,' 
and  I  must  say  she  is  very  superior,  very." 

It  was  n't,  it  could  n't  be  possible,  thought 
Cyril;  and  yet 

"  Did  she  see  much  of  her  ladyship? "  he 
asked. 


92  Who  ? 

"  Lately,  Mrs.  Valdriguez,  seeing  as  what  she 
was  such  a  quiet  girl,  has  allowed  her  to  put 
the  things  she  has  mended  back  into  her  lady- 
ship's room,  and  I  know  her  ladyship  has  spoken 
to  her,  but  how  often  she  has  done  so  I  could  n't 
really  say.  Prentice  did  n't  talk  much." 

"  Did  she  seem  much  interested  in  her  lady- 
ship? " 

"  At  first  very  much  so.  If  we  were  talking 
about  her  ladyship,  she  would  always  stay  and 
listen.  Once,  when  one  of  the  housemaids  'ad 
said  something  about  her  being  crazy,  I  think, 
Prentice  got  quite  excited,  and  when  Mrs.  Val- 
driguez had  left  the  room,  she  said  to  me, '  I  don't 
believe  there  is  anything  the  matter  with  her 
ladyship;  I  think  it  just  cruel  the  way  she  is 
kept  locked  up ! '  Begging  your  pardon,  my 
lord,  those  were  her  very  words.  She  made  me 
promise  not  to  repeat  what  she  had  said — least 
of  all  to  Mrs.  Valdriguez,  and  I  never  have,  not 
till  this  minute." 

"  Did  she  ever  suggest  that  she  would  like  to 
help  her  ladyship  to  escape?  " 

"  Why,  my  lord ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Eversley, 
staring  at  her  master  in  astonishment.  "  That 's 


The  Mysterious  Maid  93 

just  what  she  did  do,  just  once — oh,  you  don't 
think  she  did  it !  And  yet  that 's  what  they  're 
all  saying " 

"  Is  anything  missing  from  her  room? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  can't  say,  my  lord ;  her  trunk  is  locked  and 
she  took  a  small  bag  with  her.  But  there  are 
things  in  the  drawers  and  a  skirt  and  a  pair  of 
shoes  in  the  wardrobe." 

"  From  the  appearance  of  the  room,  therefore, 
you  should  judge  that  she  intended  to  return?  " 

"  Ye-es,  my  lord — and  yet  I  must  say,  I  was 
surprised  to  see  so  few  things  about,  and  the 
skirt  and  shoes  were  very  shabby." 

"  I  suppose  that  by  this  time  every  one  knows 
the  girl  is  missing?  "  Cyril  asked. 

"  The  upper  servants  do,  and  the  detective  was 
after  me  to  tell  him  all  about  her,  but  I  would  n't 
say  a  word  till  I  had  asked  what  your  lordship's 
wishes  are." 

"  I  thought  Judson  had  left  the  castle?  " 

"  So  he  has,  my  lord ;  this  is  the  man  from 
Scotland  Yard.  Griggs  is  his  name.  He  was 
'ere  before  Judson,  but  he  had  left  the  castle 
before  you  arrived." 


94  Who  ? 

Impossible  even  to  attempt  to  keep  her  dis- 
appearance a  secret,  thought  Cyril.  After  all, 
perhaps  she  was  not  his  protegee.  He  was  al- 
ways jumping  at  erroneous  conclusions,  and  a 
description  is  so  misleading.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  combination  of  black  hair  and  blue  eyes  was 
a  most  unusual  one.  Besides,  it  was  already 
sufficiently  remarkable  that  two  young  and 
beautiful  women  had  fled  from  Newhaven  on 
the  same  day  (beauty  being  alas  such  a  rarity!), 
but  that  three  should  have  done  so  was  well-nigh 
incredible.  But  could  even  the  most  superior 
of  upper  servants  possess  that  air  of  breeding 
which  was  one  of  the  girl's  most  noticeable 
attributes.  It  was,  of  course,  within  the  bounds 
of  possibility  that  this  maid  was  well-born  and 
simply  forced  by  poverty  into  a  menial  position. 
One  thing  was  certain — if  his  protegee  was  Pris- 
cilla  Prentice,  then  this  girl,  in  spite  of  her 
humble  occupation,  was  a  lady,  and  consequently 
more  than  ever  in  need  of  his  protection  and 
respect. 

Well,  assuming  that  it  was  Prentice  he  had 
rescued,  what  part  had  she  played  in  the  tragedy? 
Why  had  she  feared  arrest?  She  must  have 


The  Mysterious  Maid  95 

been  present  at  the  murder,  but  even  in  that 
case,  why  did  she  not  realise  that  Lady  Wil- 
mersley's  unbalanced  condition  would  prevent 
suspicion  from  falling  on  any  one  else?  The 
police  had  never  even  thought  of  her!  And 
where  had  she  hidden  her  mistress?  It  was 
all  most  mysterious. 

Cyril  sat  weighing  the  pros  and  cons  of  one 
theory  after  another,  completely  oblivious  of  his 
housekeeper's  presence. 

Douglas,  entering,  discreetly  interrupted  his 
cogitations : 

"  The  inquest  is  about  to  begin,  my  lord." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  INQUEST 

ON  entering  the  hall  Cyril  found  that  a  seat 
on  the  right  hand  of  the  coroner  had  been  re- 
served for  him,  but  he  chose  a  secluded  corner 
from  which  he  could  watch  the  proceedings 
unobserved. 

On  the  left  of  Mr.  Tinker  sat  a  tall,  imposing- 
looking  man,  who,  on  inquiry,  proved  to  be 
Inspector  Griggs. 

The  first  part  of  the  inquest  developed  nothing 
new.  It  was  only  when  Mustapha  stepped  for- 
ward that  Cyril's  interest  revived  and  he  forgot 
the  problem  of  his  protegee's  identity. 

The  Turk,  with  the  exception  of  a  red  fez, 
was  dressed  as  a  European,  but  his  swarthy  skin, 
large,  beak-like  nose,  and  deep,  sombre  eyes,  in 
which  brooded  the  mystery  of  the  East,  pro- 
claimed his  nationality. 

96 


The  Inquest  97 

Cyril  tried  in  vain  to  form  some  estimate  of 
the  man's  character,  to  probe  the  depths  of  those 
fathomless  eyes,  but  ignorant  as  he  was  of  the 
Oriental,  he  found  it  impossible  to  differenti- 
ate between  Mustapha's  racial  and  individual 
characteristics.  That  he  was  full  of  infinite  pos- 
sibilities was  evident — even  his  calmness  was 
suggestive  of  potential  passion.  A  man  to  be 
watched,  decided  Cyril. 

Mustapha  gave  his  testimony  in  a  low,  clear 
voice,  and  although  he  spoke  with  a  strong 
foreign  accent,  his  English  was  purer  than  that 
of  his  fellow  servants. 

That  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder 
seemed  from  the  first  conclusively  proved.  Sev- 
eral of  the  servants  had  seen  him  enter  his  room, 
which  adjoined  that  of  the  butler,  at  about  half- 
past  nine — that  is  to  say,  an  hour  and  a  half 
before  Lord  Wilmersley's  death  could,  in  the 
doctor's  opinion,  have  taken  place — and  Douglas 
on  cross-examination  reiterated  his  conviction 
that  Mustapha  could  not  have  left  his  room  with- 
out his  having  heard  him  do  so,  as  he,  Douglas, 
was  a  very  light  sleeper. 

In  answer  to  questions  from  the  coroner,  Mus- 


98  Who  ? 

tapha  told  how  he  had  entered  the  late  Lord 
Wilmersley's  service  some  fifteen  years  pre- 
viously, at  which  time  his  master  owned  a  house 
on  the  outskirts  of  Constantinople.  As  he 
dressed  as  a  Mussulman  and  consorted  entirely 
with  the  natives,  Mustapha  did  not  know  that 
he  was  a  foreigner  till  his  master  informed  him 
of  the  fact  just  before  leaving  Turkey. 

When  questioned  as  to  Lady  Wilrnersley,  he 
was  rather  non-committal.  No,  he  had  never  be- 
lieved her  to  be  dangerous. — Had  she  seemed 
happy?  No,  she  cried  often. — Did  his  lordship 
ever  ill-treat  her?  Not  that  he  knew  of.  His 
lordship  was  very  patient  with  her  tears. — Did 
he  know  how  she  could  have  obtained  a  pistol? 
Yes,  there  was  one  concealed  on  his  master's 
desk.  He  had  discovered  that  it  was  missing. — 
How  could  a  pistol  lie  concealed  on  a  desk?  It 
was  hidden  inside  an  ancient  steel  gauntlet, 
ostensibly  used  as  a  paperweight.  Mustapha 
had  found  it  one  day  quite  accidentally. — Did 
he  tell  his  lordship  of  his  discovery?  No.  His 
master  was  always  afraid  of  being  spied  upon.— 
Why?  He  did  not  know. — Did  Mustapha  know 
of  any  enemy  of  his  lordship  who  was  likely  to 


The  Inquest  99 

have  sought  such  a  revenge?  No.  His  master's 
enemies  were  not  in  England. — Then  his  lord- 
ship had  enemies?  As  all  men  have,  so  had  he. — 
But  he  had  no  special  enemy?  An  enemy  is 
an  enemy,  but  his  master's  enemies  were  not 
near. — How  could  he  be  so  sure  of  that?  He 
would  have  had  word. — How?  From  whom? 
From  his,  Mustapha's  friends. — Did  his  lordship 
fear  his  enemies  would  follow  him  to  England? 
At  first,  perhaps,  but  not  lately. — If  his  lord- 
ship's enemies  had  found  him,  would  they  have 
been  likely  to  kill  him?  Who  can  tell?  The 
heart  of  man  is  very  evil. — But  he  knew  no  one 
who  could  have  done  this  thing?  No  one. — Did 
he  believe  his  mistress  had  done  it?  Mustapha 
hesitated  for  the  first  time.  "  They  say  so,"  he 
finally  answered. 

"  But  you,  what  do  you  think?  "  insisted  the 
coroner. 

"  The  ways  of  women  are  dark." 

"  Do  you  believe  her  ladyship  killed  your 
master — Yes  or  No? "  repeated  the  coroner 
impatiently. 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  say,"  replied  Mustapha 
with  unruffled  dignity. 


ioo  Who  ? 

The  coroner,  feeling  himself  rebuked,  dis- 
missed the  man  with  a  hurried  "  That  will  do." 

Mrs.  Valdriguez  was  next  called. 

She  was  a  tall,  thin  woman  between  fifty  and 
sixty.  Her  black  hair,  freely  sprinkled  with 
silver,  was  drawn  into  a  tight  knot  at  the  back 
of  her  small  head.  Her  pale,  haggard  face,  with 
its  finely-chiselled  nose,  thin-lipped  mouth,  and 
slightly-retreating  chin,  was  almost  beautified  by 
her  large,  sunken  eyes,  which  still  glowed  with 
extraordinary  brilliancy.  Her  black  dress  was 
austere  in  its  simplicity  and  she  wore  no  orna- 
ment except  a  small  gold  cross  suspended  on 
her  bosom. 

The  woman  was  obviously  nervous.  She  held 
her  hands  tightly  clasped  in  front  of  her,  and 
her  lips  twitched  from  time  to  time.  She  spoke 
so  low  that  Cyril  had  to  lean  forward  to  catch 
her  answers,  but  her  English  was  perfectly 
fluent.  It  was  chiefly  her  accent  and  intonation 
which  betrayed  her  foreign  birth. 

"  You  lived  here  in  the  time  of  the  late  Lady 
Wilmersley,  did  you  not?  "  began  the  coroner. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  In  what  capacity?  " 


The  Inquest  101 

"  As  lady's  maid,  sir." 

"  When  did  you  leave  here,  and  why?  " 

"  I  left  when  fier  ladyship  died." 

"  Did  you  return  to  Spain?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  enter  the  present 
Lady  Wilmersley's  service?  " 

"  Lord  Wilmersley  sent  for  me  when  he  was 
on  his  wedding  journey. 

"  Had  you  seen  him  after  you  left  Geralton  ?  " 

"  From  time  to  time." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  his  lordship  had  any 
enemies?  " 

"  Not  of  late  years." 

"  Then  you  did  know  some.    Who  were  they?  " 

"  Those  that  he  had  are  either  dead  or  have 
forgiven,"  Valdriguez  answered,  and  as  she  did 
so,  she  fingered  the  cross  on  her  breast. 

"  So  that  you  can  think  of  no  one  likely  to 
have  resorted  to  such  a  terrible  revenge?  " 

"  No  one,  sir." 

"  On  the  night  of  the  murder  you  did  not 
assist  her  ladyship  to  undress,  so  I  under- 
stand? " 

"  I  never  did.     From  the  time  her  ladyship 


io2  Who  ? 

left  her  room  to  go  to  dinner  I  never  saw  her 
again  till  the  following  morning." 

"  And  you  noticed  nothing  unusual  that 
evening?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that.  Her  ladyship  was  very 
much  excited.  She  cried  and  begged  me  to  help 
her  to  escape." 

A  murmur  of  excitement  ran  through  the 
hall. 

"  What  did  you  say  to  her?  " 

"  I  told  her  that  she  was  his  lordship's  lawful 
wife;  that  she  had  vowed  before  God  to  honour 
and  obey  him  in  all  things." 

"  Had  she  ever  made  an  attempt  to  escape?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Did  she  ever  give  you  any  reason  for  wish- 
ing to  do  so?  " 

"  She  told  me  that  his  lordship  threatened  to 
shut  her  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  but  I  assured 
her  he  would  never  do  so.  He  loved  her  too 
much." 

"  You  consider  that  he  was  very  devoted  to 
her?" 

The  woman  closed  her  eyes  for  a  second. 

"  He  loved  her  as  I  have  never  before  known 


The  Inquest  103 

a  man  love  a  woman,"  she  answered,  with  sup- 
pressed vehemence. 

"  Why  then  did  he  send  for  the  doctors  to 
commit  her  to  an  institution?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

At  this  point  of  the  interrogation  Cyril  scrib- 
bled a  few  words,  which  he  gave  to  one  of  the 
footmen  to  carry  to  the  coroner.  When  the 
latter  had  read  them,  he  asked: 

"  Did  you  consider  her  ladyship  a  dangerous 
lunatic?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  prophesy  that  she  would 
kill  your  master?  " 

The  woman  trembled  slightly  and  her  hand 
again  sought  the  cross. 

"  I — I  believed  Lord  Wilmersley's  time  had 
come,  but  I  knew  not  how  he  would  die.  I  did 
not  know  that  she  would  be  the  instrument — 
only  I  feared  it." 

"  Why  did  you  think  his  lordship's  days  were 
numbered?  " 

"  Sir,  if  I  were  to  tell  you  my  reasons,  you 
would  say  that  they  were  not  reasons.  You 
would  call  them  superstitions  and  me  a  foolish 


104  Who  ? 

old  woman.  I  believe  what  I  believe,  and  you, 
what  you  have  been  taught.  God  shall  judge. 
Suffice  it,  sir,  that  my  reasons  for  believing  that 
his  lordship  would  die  soon  are  not  such  as 
would  appeal  to  your  common-sense." 

"  H'm,  well — I  confess  that  signs  and  omens 
are  not  much  in  my  line,  but  I  must  really  in- 
sist upon  your  giving  some  explanation  as  to 
why  you  feared  that  your  mistress  would  murder 
Lord  Wilmersley." 

The  woman's  lips  twitched  convulsively  and 
her  eyes  glowed  with  sombre  fire. 

"  Because — if  you  will  know  it — he  loved  her 
more  than  was  natural — he  loved  her  more  than 
his  God ;  and  the  Lord  God  is  a  jealous  God." 

"  And  this  is  really  your  only  reason  for  your 
extraordinary  supposition?  " 

"  For  me  it  is  enough,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  well — very  curious  indeed !  "  said  the 
coroner,  regarding  the  woman  intently. 

He  paused  for  a  moment. 

"  How  did  you  pass  the  evening  of  the  mur- 
der? "  he  asked. 

"  In  my  room.  I  had  a  headache  and  went 
early  to  bed." 


The  Inquest  105 

"  I  suppose  somebody  saw  you  after  you  left 
Lady  Wilmersley's  room  who  can  support  your 
statement?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  do  not  remember  seeing 
any  one,"  answered  Valdriguez,  throwing  her 
head  back  and  looking  a  little  defiantly  at  Mr. 
Tinker. 

"  A'h,  really?  That  is  a  pity,"  said  the  coroner. 
"  However,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  your 
word — as  yet,"  he  added. 

Mrs.  Eversley  was  next  called.  The  coroner 
questioned  her  exhaustively  as  to  the  missing 
Priscilla  Prentice.  He  seemed  especially  anx- 
ious to  know  whether  the  girl  had  owned  a 
bicycle.  She  had  not. — Did  she  know  how  to 
ride  one?  Yes,  Mrs.  Eversley  had  seen  her  try 
one  belonging  to  the  under-housemaid. — Did 
many  of  the  servants  own  bicycles?  Yes. — Had 
one  of  them  been  taken?  She  did  not  know. 

On  further  inquiry,  however,  it  was  found 
that  all  the  machines  were  accounted  for. 

It  had  not  occurred  to  Cyril  to  speculate  as 
to  how,  if  Prentice  had  really  aided  her  mistress 
to  escape,  she  had  been  able  to  cover  the  nine 
miles  which  separated  the  castle  from  Newhaven. 


io6  Who? 

Eighteen  miles  in  one  evening  on  foot!  Not 
perhaps  an  impossible  feat,  but  very  nearly  so, 
especially  as  on  her  way  back  she  would  have 
been  handicapped  by  Lady  Wilmersley,  a  deli- 
cate woman,  quite  unaccustomed — at  all  events 
during  the  last  three  years — to  any  form  of 
exercise. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  this  difficulty 
had  not  escaped  the  coroner,  for  all  the  servants 
and  more  especially  the  gardeners  and  under- 
gardeners  were  asked  if  they  had  seen  in  any 
of  the  less-frequented  paths  traces  of  a  carriage 
or  bicycle.  But  no  one  had  seen  or  heard  any- 
thing suspicious. 

The  head  gardener  and  his  wife,  who  lived  at 
the  Lodge,  swore  that  the  tall,  iron  gates  had 
been  locked  at  half-past  nine,  and  that  they  had 
heard  no  vehicle  pass  on  the  highroad  during 
the  night. 

At  this  point  in  the  proceedings  whispering 
was  audible  in  the  back  of  the  hall.  The  coroner 
paused  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  A  moment 
later  Douglas  stepped  up  to  him  and  said  some- 
thing in  a  low  voice.  The  coroner  nodded. 

"  Mrs.  Willis,"  he  called. 


The  Inquest  107 

A  middle-aged  woman,  very  red  in  the  face, 
came  reluctantly  forward. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Willis,  I  hear  you  have  some- 
thing to  tell  me?  " 

"  Indeed  no,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  woman,  pick- 
ing nervously  at  her  gloves.  "  It  is  nothing  at 
all.  Only  when  I  'card  you  asking  about  car- 
riages in  the  night,  I  says  to  Mrs.  Jones — well, 
one  passed,  I  know  that.  Leastways,  it  didn't 
exactly  pass;  it  stayed." 

"  The  carriage  stayed;  where?  " 

"  It  was  n't  a  carriage." 

"It  wasn't  a  carriage  and  it  stayed?  Can't 
you  explain  yourself  more  clearly,  Mrs.  Willis? 
This  isn't  a  conundrum,  is  it?" 

"  It  was  a  car,  a  motor-car,"  stammered  the 
woman. 

"  A  car !     And  it  stopped?    Where?  " 

"  I  could  n't  say  exactly,  but  not  far  from  our 
cottage." 

"  And  where  is  your  cottage?  " 

"  On  the  'ighroad  near  the  long  lane." 

"  I  see."  The  coroner  was  obviously  excited. 
"Your  husband  is  one  of  the  gardeners  here, 
is  n't  he?  " 


io8  Who? 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  So  there  is  doubtless  a  path  connecting  your 
cottage  with  the  castle  grounds?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  About  how  far  from  your  cottage  was  the 
car?  " 

"I  didn't  see  it,  sir;  I  just  'eard  it;  but  it 
wasn't  far,  that  I  know,"  reiterated  the 
woman. 

"  Did  you  hear  any  one  pass  through  your 
garden  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Could  they  have  done  so  without  your  hear- 
ing them?  " 

"They  might." 

"  Was  the  car  going  to  or  coming  from  New- 
haven?" 

"  It  was  coming  from  Newhaven." 

"  Then  it  must  have  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the 
long  lane." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that 's  just  about  where  I  thought 
it  was." 

"  Is  there  a  path  connecting  Long  Lane  with 
the  highroad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  narrow  one." 


The  Inquest  109 

"  What  time  was  it  when  you  heard  the  car? 
Now  try  and  be  very  accurate." 

"  I  would  n't  like  to  swear,  sir,  but  I  think  it 
was  between  eleven  and  twelve." 

"  Did  your  husband  hear  it  also?  " 

"  No,  sir,  'e  was  fast  asleep,  but  I  was  n't 
feeling  very  well,  so  I  had  got  up  thinking  I  'd 
make  myself  a  cup  of  tea,  and  just  then  I  'card 
a  car  come  whizzing  along,  and  then  there  was 
a  bang.  Oh,  says  I,  they  've  burst  their  wheel, 
that 's  what  they  've  done,  me  knowing  about 
cars.  I  know  it  takes  a  bit  of  mending,  a  wheel 
does,  so  I  was  n't  surprised  when  I  'card  no  more 
of  them  for  a  time — and  I  'ad  just  about  for- 
gotten all  about  them,  so  I  had,  when  I  'ears 
them  move  off." 

"And  they  did  not  pass  your  cottage?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  "m  sure  of  that." 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  else?  " 

"  Well,  sir " — the  woman  fidgeted  uneasily, 
"  I  thought — but  I  should  n't  like  to  swear  to 
it — not  on  the  Bible — but  I  fancied  I  'eard  a 
cry." 

"  What  sort  of  a  cry?  Was  it  a  man  or  a 
woman's?  " 


1 10  Who  ? 

"  I  really  could  n't  say — and  perhaps  what  I 
'eard  was  not  a  cry  at  all " 

"  Well,  well — this  is  most  important.  A 
motor-car  that  is  driven  at  half-past  eleven  at 
night  to  the  foot  of  a  lane  which  leads  nowhere 
but  to  the  castle  grounds,  and  then  returns  in 
the  direction  it  came  from — very  extraordinary 
— very.  We  must  look  into,  this,"  exclaimed  the 
coroner. 

And  with  this  the  inquest  was  adjourned. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LADY    UPTON 

DR.  STUART-SMITH  to  Mr.  Peter  Thompkins, 
Geralton  Castle,  Newhiaven. 

"  DEAR  LORD  WILMERSLEY  : 

"  Lady  Wilmersley  showed  sings  of  returning 
consciousness  at  half-past  five  yesterday  after- 
noon. I  was  at  once  sent  for,  but  when  I  ar- 
rived she  had  fallen  asleep.  She  woke  again  at 
nine  o'clock  and  this  time  asked  where  she  was. 
She  spoke  indistinctly  and  did  not  seem  to  com- 
prehend what  the  nurse  said  to  her.  When  I 
reached  the  patient,  I  found  her  sitting  up  in 
bed.  Her  pulse  was  irregular ;  her  temperature, 
subnormal.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  assure  you 
that  Lady  Wilmersley  is  at  present  perfectly 
rational.  She  is,  however,  suffering  from  hys- 
terical amnesia  complicated  by  aphasia,  but  I 

in 


ii2  Who? 

trust  this  is  only  a  temporary  affection.  At 
first  she  hesitated  over  the  simplest  words,  but 
before  I  left  she  could  talk  with  tolerable  fluency. 

"  I  asked  Lady  Wilmersley  whether  she  wished 
to  see  you.  She  has  not  only  forgotten  that  she 
has  a  husband  but  has  no  very  clear  idea  as 
to  what  a  husband  is.  In  fact,  she  appears  to 
have  preserved  no  precise  impression  of  any- 
thing. She  did  not  even  remember  her  own 
name.  When  I  told  it  to  her,  she  said  it 
sounded  familiar,  only  that  she  did  not  asso- 
ciate it  with  herself.  Of  you  personally  she  has 
no  recollection,  although  I  described  you  as 
accurately  as  I  could.  However,  as  your  name 
is  the  only  thing  she  even  dimly  recalls,  I  hope 
that  when  you  see  her,  you  will  be  able  to  help 
her  bridge  the  gulf  which  separates  her  from 
the  past. 

"  She  seemed  distressed  at  her  condition,  so  I 
told  her  that  she  had  been  ill  and  that  it  was 
not  uncommon  for  convalescents  to  suffer  tem- 
porarily from  loss  of  memory.  When  I  left  her, 
she  was  perfectly  calm. 

"  She  slept  well  last  night,  and  this  morning 
she  has  no  difficulty  in  expressing  herself,  but 


Lady  Upton  1 13 

I  do  not  allow  her  to  talk  much  as  she  is  still 
weak. 

"  I  quite  understand  the  delicacy  of  your  posi- 
tion and  sympathise  with  you  most  deeply.  Al- 
though I  am  anxious  to  try  what  effect  your 
presence  will  have  on  Lady  Wilmersley,  the  ex- 
periment can  be  safely  postponed  till  to-morrow 
afternoon. 

"  I  trust  the  inquest  will  clear  up  the  mystery 
which  surrounds  the  late  Lord  Wilmersley 's 
death. 

"  Believe  me, 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  A.  STUART-SMITH." 

Cyril  stared  at  the  letter  aghast.  If  the  girl 
herself  had  forgotten  her  identity,  how  could  he 
hope  to  find  out  the  truth?  He  did  not  even 
dare  to  instigate  a  secret  inquiry — certainly  not 
till  the  Geralton  mystery  had  been  cleared  up. 
And  she  believed  herself  to  be  his  wife !  It  was 
too  awful! 

Cyril  passed  a  sleepless  night  and  the  next 
morning  found  him  still  undecided  as  to  what 
course  to  pursue.  It  was,  therefore,  a  pale  face 


ii4  Who? 

and  a  preoccupied  mien  that  he  presented  to  the 
inspection  of  the  county,  which  had  assembled  in 
force  to  attend  his  cousin's  funeral.  Never  in 
the  memory  of  man  had  such  an  exciting  event 
taken  place  and  the  great  hall  in  which  the  cata- 
falque had  been  erected  was  thronged  with  men 
of  all  ages  and  conditions. 

In  the  state  drawing-room  Cyril  stood  and 
received  the  condolences  and  faced  the  curiosity 
of  the  county  magnates. 

The  ordeal  was  almost  over,  when  the  door 
was  again  thrown  open  and  the  butler  an- 
nounced, "  Lady  Upton." 

Leaning  heavily  on  a  gold-headed  cane  Lady 
Upton  advanced  majestically  into  the  room. 

A  sudden  hush  succeeded  her  entrance;  every 
eye  was  riveted  upon  her.  She  seemed,  how- 
ever, superbly  indifferent  to  the  curiosity  she 
aroused,  and  one  felt,  somehow,  that  she  was  not 
only  indifferent  but  contemptuous. 

She  was  a  tall  woman,  taller,  although  she 
stooped  a  little,  than  most  of  the  men  present. 
Notwithstanding  her  great  age,  she  gave  the  im- 
pression of  extraordinary  vigour.  Her  face 
was  long  and  narrow,  with  a  stern,  hawk-like 


Lady  Upton  115 

nose,  a  straight,  uncompromising  mouth,  and  a 
protruding  chin.  Her  scanty,  white  hair  was 
drawn  tightly  back  from  her  high  forehead;  a 
deep  furrow  separated  her  bushy,  grey  eyebrows 
and  gave  an  added  fierceness  to  her  small,  steel- 
coloured  eyes.  An  antiquated  bonnet  perched 
perilously  on  the  back  of  her  head;  her  dress 
was  quite  obviously  shabby ;  and  yet  no  one  could 
for  a  moment  have  mistaken  her  for  anything 
but  a  truly  great  lady. 

Disregarding  Cyril's  outstretched  hand,  she 
deliberately  raised  her  lorgnette  and  looked  at 
him  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  Well !  You  are  a  Crichton  at  any  rate,"  she 
said  at  last.  Having  given  vent  to  this  am- 
biguous remark,  she  waved  her  glasses,  as  if  to 
sweep  away  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  con- 
tinued :  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  alone." 

Her  voice  was  deep  and  harsh  and  she  made 
no  effort  to  lower  it. 

"  So  this  was  Anita  Wilmersley's  grandmother. 
What  an  old  tartar !  "  thought  Cyril. 

"  It  is  almost  time  for  the  funeral  to  start," 
he  said  aloud  and  he  tried  to  convey  by  his 
manner  that  he,  at  any  rate,  had  no  in- 


n6  Who? 

tention  of  allowing  her  to  ride  rough-shod  over 
him. 

"  I  know,"  she  snapped,  "  so  hurry,  please. 
These  gentlemen  will  excuse  us." 

"Certainly."  "Of  course."  "We  will  wait 
in  the  hall."  Cyril  heard  them  murmur  and, 
such  was  the  force  of  the  old  lady's  personality, 
that  youths  and  grey  beards  jostled  each  other 
in  their  anxiety  to  get  out  of  the  room  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

"  Get  me  a  chair,"  commanded  Lady  Upton. 
"  No,  not  that  one.  I  want  to  sit  down,  not 
lie  down." 

.With  her  stick  she  indicated  a  high,  straight- 
backed  chair,  which  had  been  relegated  to  a 
corner. 

Having  seated  herself,  she  took  a  pair  of 
spectacles  out  of  her  reticule  and  proceeded  to 
wipe  them  in  a  most  leisurely  manner. 

Cyril  fidgeted  impatiently. 

Finally,  her  task  completed  to  her  own  satis- 
faction, she  adjusted  her  glasses  and  crossed  her 
hands  over  the  top  of  her  cane. 

"  No  news  of  my  granddaughter,  I  suppose," 
she  demanded. 


Lady  Upton  117 

"  None,  I  am  sorry  to  say." 

"  Anita  is  a  fool,  but  I  am  certain — absolutely 
certain,  mind  you — that  she  did  not  kill  that 
precious  husband  of  hers,  though  I  don't  doubt 
he  richly  deserved  it." 

"  I  am  surprised  that  you  of  all  people  should 
speak  of  my  cousin  in  that  tone,"  said  Cyril  and 
he  looked  at  her  meaningly. 

"  Of  course,  you  believe  what  every  one  be- 
lieves, that  I  forced  Ann  into  that  marriage. 
Stuff  and  nonsense!  I  merely  pointed  out  to 
her  that  she  could  not  do  better  than  take  him. 
She  had  not  a  penny  to  her  name  and  after  my 
death  would  have  been  left  totally  unprovided- 
for.  I  have  only  my  dower,  as  you  know." 

"  But,  how  could  you  have  allowed  a  girl  whose 
mind  was  affected  to  marry?  " 

"  Fiddlesticks !  You  don't  believe  that  non- 
sense, do  you?  Newspaper  twaddle,  that  is  all 
that  amounts  to." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Arthur  himself  gave  out 
that  her  condition  was  such  that  she  was  unable 
to  see  any  one." 

"  Impossible !  He  wrote  to  me  quite  fre- 
quently and  never  hinted  at  such  a  thing." 


ii8  Who? 

"  Nevertheless  I  assure  you  that  is  the  case." 

"  Then  he  is  a  greater  blackguard  than  I  took 
him  to  be 

"  But  did  you  not  know  that  he  kept  her  prac- 
tically a  prisoner  here?  " 

"  Certainly  not !  " 

"  And  she  never  complained  to  you  of  his 
treatment  of  her?  " 

"  I  once  got  a  hysterical  letter  from  her  beg- 
ging me  to  let  her  come  back  to  me,  but  as  the 
only  reason  she  gave  for  wishing  to  leave  her 
husband  was  that  he  was  personally  distaste- 
ful to  her,  I  wrote  back  that  as  she  had  made 
her  bed,  she  must  lie  on  it." 

"  And  even  after  that  appeal  you  never  made 
an  attempt  to  see  Anita  and  find  out  for  your- 
self how  Arthur  was  treating  her?  " 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  being  cross-ques- 
tioned, Lord  Wilmersley.  I  am  accountable  to 
no  one  but  my  God  for  what  I  have  done  or 
failed  to  do.  I  never  liked  Anita.  She  takes 
after  her  father,  whom  my  daughter  married 
without  my  consent.  When  she  was  left  an 
orphan,  I  took  charge  of  her  and  did  my  duty 
by  her;  but  I  never  pretended  that  I  wras  not 


Lady  Upton  119 

glad  when  she  married  and,  as  she  did  so  of  her 
own  free-will,  I  cannot  see  that  her  future  life 
was  any  concern  of  mine." 

Cyril  could  hardly  restrain  his  indignation. 
This  proud,  hard,  selfish  old  woman  had  evi- 
dently never  ceased  to  visit  her  resentment  of 
her  daughter's  marriage  on  the  child  of  that 
marriage.  He  could  easily  picture  the  loveless 
and  miserable  existence  poor  Anita  must  have 
led.  Was  it  surprising  that  she  should  have 
taken  the  first  chance  that  was  offered  her  of 
escaping  from  her  grandmother's  thraldom?  She 
had  probably  been  too  ignorant  to  realise  what 
sort  of  a  man  Arthur  Wilmersley  really  was  and 
too  innocent  to  know  what  she  was  pledging 
herself  to. 

"  I  have  come  here  to-day,"  continued  Lady 
Upton,  "  because  I  considered  it  seemly  that  my 
granddaughter's  only  relative  should  put  in  an 
appearance  at  the  funeral  and  also  because  I 
wanted  you  to  tell  me  exactly  what  grounds  the 
police  have  for  suspecting  Anita." 

Cyril  related  as  succinctly  as  possible  every- 
thing which  had  so  far  come  to  light.  He,  how- 
ever, carefully  omitted  to  mention  his  meeting 


120  Who  ? 

with  the  girl  on  the  train.  As  the  latter  could 
not  be  Anita  Wilmersley,  he  felt  that  he  was 
not  called  upon  to  inform  Lady  Upton  of  this 
episode. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Upton,  when  he  had 
finished.  "  All  I  can  say  is,  that  Anita  is  quite 
incapable  of  firing  a  pistol  at  any  one,  even  if 
it  were  thrust  into  her  hand.  You  may  not  be- 
lieve me,  but  that  is  because  you  don't  know 
her.  I  do.  She  has  n't  the  spirit  of  a  mouse. 
Unless  Arthur  had  frightened  her  out  of  her  wits, 
she  would  never  have  screwed  up  courage  to 
leave  him,  and  it  would  be  just  like  her  to  crawl 
away  in  the  night  instead  of  walking  out  of  the 
front  door  like  a  sensible  person.  Bah !  I  have 
no  patience  with  such  a  spineless  creature !  You 
men,  however,  consider  it  an  engaging  feminine 
attribute  for  a  woman  to  have  neither  character 
nor  sense!"  Lady  Upton  snorted  contemptu- 
ously and  glared  at  Cyril  as  if  she  held  him 
personally  responsible  for  the  bad  taste  of  his 
sex. 

As  he  made  no  answer  to  her  tirade,  she  con- 
tinued after  a  moment  more  calmly. 

"  It  seems  to  me  highly  improbable  that  Anita 


Lady  Upton  121 

has  been  murdered;  so  I  want  you  to  engage  a 
decent  private  detective  who  will  work  only  for 
us.  We  must  find  her  before  the  police  do  so. 
I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  will  help  me  in 
this  matter  and  that  you  are  anxious — although, 
naturally,  not  as  anxious  as  I  am — to  prevent 
your  cousin's  widow  from  being  arrested." 

"  A  woman  who  has  been  treated  by  her  hus- 
band as  Arthur  seems  to  have  treated  Anita,  is 
entitled  to  every  consideration  that  her  hus- 
band's family  can  offer  her,"  replied  Cyril.  "  I 
am  already  employing  a  detective  and  if  he  finds 
Anita  I  will  communicate  with  you  at  once." 

"  Good !  Now  remember  that  my  grand- 
daughter is  perfectly  sane;  on  the  other  hand, 
I  think  it  advisable  to  keep  this  fact  a  secret 
for  the  present.  Circumstantial  evidence  is  so 
strongly  against  her  that  we  may  have  to  resort 
to  the  plea  of  insanity  to  save  her  neck.  That 
girl  has  been  a  thorn  in  my  flesh  since  the  day 
she  was  born;  but  she  shall  not  be  hanged,  if 
I  can  help  it,"  said  Lady  Upton,  shutting  her 
mouth  with  an  audible  click. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   JEWELS 

As  soon  as  the  funeral  was  over,  Cyril  left 
Geralton.  On  arriving  in  London  he  recognised 
several  reporters  at  the  station.  Fearing  that 
they  might  follow  him,  he  ordered  his  taxi  to 
drive  to  the  Carlton.  There  he  got  out  and 
walking  quickly  through  the  hotel,  he  made  his 
exit  by  a  rear  door.  Having  assured  himself 
that  he  was  not  being  observed,  he  hailed  an- 
other taxi  and  drove  to  the  nursing  home. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Thompkins,"  exclaimed  the  doctor, 
with  ponderous  facetiousness.  "  I  am  glad  to 
be  able  to  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Thompkins  is  much 
better." 

"  And  her  memory?  "  faltered  Cyril. 

"  It 's  improving.  She  does  not  yet  remember 
people  or  incidents,  but  she  is  beginning  to  re- 


The  Jewels  123 

call  certain  places.  For  instance,  I  asked  her 
yesterday  if  she  had  been  to  Paris.  It  sug- 
gested nothing  to  her,  but  this  morning  she  told 
me  with  great  pride  that  Paris  was  a  city  and 
that  it  had  a  wide  street  with  an  arch  at  one 
end.  So  you  see  she  is  progressing;  only  we 
must  not  hurry  her." 

Cyril  murmured  a  vague  assent. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  you  must 
be  very  careful  when  you  see  Lady  Wilmersley 
to  restrain  your  emotions,  and  on  no  account 
to  remind  her  of  the  immediate  past.  I  hope 
and  believe  she  will  never  remember  it.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  wish  you  to  talk  about  those  of 
her  friends  and  relations  for  whom  she  has 
shown  a  predilection.  Her  memory  must  be 
gently  stimulated,  but  on  no  account  excited. 
Quiet,  quiet  is  essential  to  her  recovery." 

"  But  doctor — I  must — it 's  frightfully  im- 
portant that  my  wife  (he  found  himself  calling 
her  so  quite  glibly)  should  be  told  of  a  certain 
fact  at  once.  If  I  wait  even  a  day,  it  will  be 
too  late,"  urged  Cyril. 

"  And  you  have  reason  to  suppose  that  this 
communication  will  agitate  Lady  Wilmersley?  " 


124  Who  ? 

"  I— I  fear  so." 

"  Then  I  can  certainly  not  permit  it.  You  don't 
seem  to  realise  the  delicate  condition  of  her  brain. 
Why,  it  might  be  fatal,"  insisted  the  doctor. 

Cyril  felt  as  if  Nemesis  were  indeed  overtak- 
ing him. 

"  Come,  we  will  go  to  her,"  said  the  doctor, 
moving  towards  the  door.  "  She  is  naturally  a 
little  nervous  about  seeing  you,  so  we  must  not 
keep  her  waiting." 

But  Cyril  hung  back.  If  he  could  not  un- 
deceive the  poor  girl,  how  could  he  enter  her 
presence.  To  pose  as  the  husband  of  a  woman 
so  as  to  enable  her  to  escape  arrest  was  excus- 
able, but  to  impose  himself  on  the  credulity  of 
an  afflicted  girl  was  absolutely  revolting.  If  he 
treated  her  with  even  the  most  decorous  show 
of  affection,  he  would  be  taking  a  dastardly 
advantage  of  the  situation.  Yet  if  he  behaved 
with  too  much  reserve,  she  would  conclude  that 
her  husband  was  a  heartless  brute.  Her  hus- 
band! The  one  person  she  had  to  cling  to  in 
the  isolation  to  which  she  had  awakened.  It 
wras  horrible!  Oh,  why  had  he  ever  placed  her 
in  such  an  impossible  position?  Arrest  would 


The  Jewels  125 

have  been  preferable.  He  was  sure  that  she 
could  easily  have  proved  her  innocence  of  what- 
ever it  was  of  which  she  was  accused,  and  in 
a  few  days  at  the  latest  would  have  gone  free 
without  a  stain  on  her  character,  while  now, 
unless  by  some  miracle  this  episode  remained 
concealed,  she  was  irredeemably  compromised. 
He  was  a  married  man;  she,  for  aught  he  knew 
to  the  contrary,  might  also  be  bound,  or  at  all 
events  have  a  fiance^  or  lover  waiting  to  claim 
her.  How  would  he  view  the  situation?  How 
would  he  receive  the  explanation?  Cyril  shud- 
dered involuntarily.  Every  minute  the  chances 
that  her  secret  could  be  kept  decreased.  If  she 
did  not  return  to  her  friends  while  it  was  still 
possible  to  explain  or  account  for  the  time  of 
her  absence,  he  feared  she  would  never  be  able 
to  return  at  all.  Yes,  it  would  take  a  miracle 
to  save  her  now! 

"  Well,  Lord  Wilmersley?  " 

Cyril  started.  The  doctor's  tone  was  per- 
emptory and  his  piercing  eyes  were  fixed  search- 
ingly  upon  him.  What  excuse  could  he  give  for 
refusing  to  meet  his  supposed  wife?  He  could 
think  of  none. 


126  Who? 

"  I  must  remind  you,  doctor,"  he  faltered  at 

last,  "  that  my  wife  has  lately  detested  me.     I 

—I  really  don't  think  I  had  better  see  her — I — 

I  am  so  afraid  my  presence  will  send  her  off  her 

head  again." 

The  doctor's  upper  lip  grew  rigid  and  his  eyes 
contracted  angrily. 

"  I  have  already  assured  you  that  she  is  per- 
fectly sane.  It  is  essential  to  her  recovery  that 
she  should  see  somebody  connected  with  her  past 
life.  I  cannot  understand  your  reluctance  to 
meet  Lady  Wilmersley." 

"  I — I  am  only  thinking  of  the  patient,"  Cyril 
murmured  feebly. 

"  The  patient  is  my  affair,"  snapped  the  doctor. 

What  could  he  do?  For  an  instant  he  was 
again  tempted  to  tell  Stuart-Smith  the  truth. 
He  looked  anxiously  at  the  man.  No,  it  was 
impossible.  There  was  no  loophole  for  escape. 
And  after  all,  he  reflected,  if  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  watching  the  girl,  she  might  quite 
unconsciously  by  some  act,  word,  or  even  by 
some  subtle  essence  of  her  personality  furnish 
him  with  a  clue  to  her  past.  Every  occupation 
leaves  indelible  marks,  although  it  sometimes 


The  Jewels  127 

takes  keen  eyes  to  discern  them.  If  the  girl 
had  been  a  seamstress,  Cyril  believed  that  he 
would  be  able  by  observing  her  closely  to  assure 
himself  of  the  fact. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  aloud.  "  If  you  are  will- 
ing to  assume  the  responsibility,  I  will  go  to  my 
wrife  at  once.  But  I  insist  on  your  being  present 
at  our  meeting." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wash  it,  but  it  is  not  at 
all  necessary,  I  assure  you,"  replied  the  doctor. 

A  moment  later  Cyril,  blushing  like  a  school- 
girl, found  himself  in  a  large,  white-washed  room. 
Before  him  on  a  narrow,  iron  bedstead  lay  his 
mysterious  protegee.  Cyril  caught  his  breath. 
He  had  forgotten  how  beautiful  she  was.  Her 
red  lips  were  slightly  parted  and  the  colour 
ebbed  and  flowed  in  her  transparent  cheeks. 
Ignoring  the  doctor,  her  eager  glance  sought 
Cyril  and  for  a  minute  the  two  young  people 
gazed  at  each  other  in  silence.  How  young,  how 
innocent  she  looked !  How  could  any  one  doubt 
the  candour  of  those  starlike  eyes,  thought  Cyril. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Crichton,"  exclaimed  Stuart- 
Smith,  "  I  have  brought  you  the  husband  you 
have  been  so  undutiful  as  to  forget.  '  Love, 


128  Who? 

honour,  and  obey,  and  above  all  remember,'  I 
suggest  as  an  amendment  to  the  marriage  vow." 

"  Nurse  has  been  reading  me  the  marriage 
service,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  quaint  mixture 
of  pride  and  diffidence.  "  I  know  all  about  it 
now ;  I  don't  think  I  '11  forget  again." 

"  Of  course  not !  And  now  that  you  have  seen 
your  husband,  do  you  find  that  you  remember 
him  at  all?  " 

"  Yes,  a  little.  I  know  that  I  have  seen  you 
before,"  she  answered,  addressing  Cyril. 

"  I  gather  from  your  manner  that  you  don't 
exactly  dislike  him,  do  you?  "  asked  the  doctor 
with  an  attempt  at  levity.  "  Your  husband  is 
so  modest  that  he  is  afraid  to  remain  in  your 
presence  till  you  have  reassured  him  on  this 
point." 

"  I  love  him  very  much,"  was  her  astounding 
answer. 

Cyril's  heart  gave  a  bound.  Did  she  realise 
what  she  had  said?  She  certainly  showed  no 
trace  of  embarrassment,  and  although  her  eyes 
clung  persistently  to  his,  their  expression  of 
childlike  simplicity  was  absolutely  disarming. 

"  Very  good,  very  good,  quite  as  it  should  be," 


The  Jewels  129 

exclaimed  the  doctor,  evidently  a  little  abashed 
by  the  frankness  of  the  girl's  reply.  "  That  be- 
ing the  case,  I  will  leave  you  two  together  to 
talk  over  old  times,  although  they  can't  be  very 
remote.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  when  I  see 
you  again,  you  will  be  as  full  of  reminiscences 
as  an  octogenarian,"  chuckled  the  doctor  as  he 
left  the  room. 

Cyril  and  the  girl  were  alone. 

An  arm-chair  had  been  placed  near  the  bed, 
obviously  for  his  reception,  and  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  took  it.  The  girl  did  not  speak, 
but  continued  to  look  at  him  unflinchingly. 
Cyril  fancied  she  regarded  him  with  something 
of  the  unquestioning  reverence  a  small  child 
might  have  for  a  beloved  parent.  His  eyes  sank 
before  hers.  Never  had  he  felt  so  unworthy,  so 
positively  guilty.  He  racked  his  brains  for 
something  to  say,  but  the  doctor's  restrictions 
seemed  to  bar  every  topic  which  suggested  it- 
self to  him.  If  he  only  knew  who  she  was!  He 
glanced  at  her  furtively.  In  the  dim  light  of 
the  shaded  lamp  he  had  not  noticed  that  what  he 
had  supposed  was  her  hair,  was  in  reality  a  piece 
of  black  lace  bound  turbanwise  about  her  head. 


130  Who  ? 

"  What  are  you  wearing  that  bandage  for?  " 
he  inquired  eagerly.  "  Was  your  head  hurt — 
my  dear?  "  he  added  diffidently. 

"  No — I — I  hope  you  won't  be  angry — nurse 
said  you  would — but  I  could  n't  help  it.  I 
really  had  to  cut  it  off." 

"  Cut  what  off?  " 

"  My  hair."  She  hung  her  head  as  a  naughty 
child  might  have  done. 

"You  cut  off  your  hair?  But  why?"  His 
voice  sounded  suddenly  harsh.  Strange  that  her 
first  act  had  been  to  destroy  one  of  the  few 
things  by  which  she  could  be  identified.  Was 
she  as  innocent  as  she  seemed?  Had  she  fooled 
them  all,  even  the  doctor?  This  amnesia,  or  what- 
ever it  was  called,  was  it  real,  wras  it  assumed? 
He  wondered. 

"  Oh,  husband,  I  know  it  was  wrong ;  but  when 
I  woke  up  and  could  n't  remember  anything,  I 
was  so  frightened,  and  then  nurse  brought  me 
a  looking-glass  and  the  face  I  saw  was  so 
strange !  Oh,  it  was  so  lonely  without  even  my- 
self !  And  then  nurse  said  it  was  my  hair.  She 
said  it  sometimes  happened  when  people  have 
had  a  great  shock  or  been  very  ill  and  so — I 


The  Jewels  131 

made  her  cut  it  off.  She  didn't  want  to — it 
was  n't  her  fault — I  made  her  do  it." 

"  But  what  had  happened  to  your  hair?  " 

"  It  had  turned  quite  white,  most  of  it."  The 
girl  shuddered.  "  Oh,  it  was  horrid !  I  am  sure 
you  would  not  have  liked  it." 

Cyril,  looking  into  her  limpid  eyes,  felt  his 
sudden  suspicions  unworthy  of  him. 

"  You  must  grow  a  nice  new  crop  of  black 
curls,  if  you  want  to  appease  me,"  he  answered. 

"Oh,  do  you  like  black  hair?"  Her  disap- 
pointment was  obvious. 

"  Yes,  don't  you?  Your  hair  was  black  before 
your  illness." 

"  I  know  it  was — but  I  hate  it !  At  all  events, 
as  long  as  I  must  wear  a  wig,  I  should  like  to 
have  a  nice  yellow  one;  nurse  tells  me  I  can 
get  them  quite  easily." 

"  Dear  me !  But  I  don't  think  a  wig  nice  at 
all." 

"  Don't  you?  "  Her  mouth  drooped  at  the 
corners.  She  seemed  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

What  an  extraordinary  child!  he  thought. 
But  she  must  n't  cry — anything  rather  than  that. 

"  My  dear,  if  you  want  a  wig,  you  shall  have 


132  Who  ? 

one  immediately.  Tell  your  nurse  to  send  to 
the  nearest  hairdresser  for  an  assortment  from 
which  you  can  make  your  choice." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,"  she  cried,  clap- 
ping her  hands.  Her  hands!  Cyril  had  for- 
gotten them  for  the  moment,  and  it  was  through 
them  that  he  had  hoped  to  establish  her  identity. 
He  looked  at  them  searchingly.  No  ring  en- 
circled the  wedding  finger,  nor  did  it  show  the 
depression  which  the  constant  wearing  of  one 
invariably  leaves.  The  girl  was  evidently  un- 
married. Those  long,  slender,  well-kept  hands 
certainly  did  not  look  as  if  they  could  belong 
to  a  servant,  but  he  reflected  that  a  seamstress' 
work  was  not  of  a  nature  to  spoil  them.  Only 
the  forefinger  of  her  left  hand  would  probably 
bear  traces  of  needle  pricks.  He  leaned  eagerly 
forward. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at?  "  she  asked. 

"  At  your  hands,  my  dear,"  he  tried  to  speak 
lightly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  them?  "  She  held 
them  out  for  his  inspection.  Yes,  it  was  as  he 
had  expected — her  forefinger  was  rough.  She 
was  Priscilla  Prentice.  Everything  had  fore- 


The  Jewels  133 

warned  him  of  this  conclusion,  yet  in  his  heart 
of  hearts  he  had  not  believed  it  possible  till  this 
moment. 

"  Don't  you  like  my  hands?  "  she  asked,  as 
she  regarded  them  with  anxious  scrutiny,  evi- 
dently trying  to  discover  why  they  failed  to  find 
favour  in  the  sight  of  her  lord. 

"  They  are — "  He  checked  himself ;  he  had 
almost  added — the  prettiest  hands  in  the  world ; 
but  he  must  n't  say  such  things  to  her,  not  under 
the  circumstances.  "  They  are  very  pretty,  only 
you  have  sewn  so  much  that  you  have  quite 
spoiled  one  little  finger." 

"Sewn?"  She  seemed  struck  with  the  idea. 
"  Sew?  I  should  like  to  sew.  I  know  I  can." 

Further  proof  of  her  identity,  if  he  needed 
it. 

"  Well,  you  must  get  nurse  to  find  you  some- 
thing on  which  to  exercise  your  talents — only 
you  must  be  careful  not  to  prick  yourself  so 
much  in  future." 

"  I  will  try,  husband,"  she  answered  meekly, 
as  she  gazed  solemnly  at  the  offending  finger. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Do  tell  me  something  about  my  past  life," 


134  Who? 

said  she.  "  I  have  been  lying  here  wondering 
and  wondering." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know?  " 

"Everything.  In  the  first  place,  are  my 
parents  living?  Oh,  I  hope  so !  " 

Here  was  a  poser.  Cyril  had  no  idea  whether 
her  parents  were  alive  or  not,  but  even  if  they 
were,  it  would  be  impossible  to  communicate 
with  them  for  the  present,  so  he  had  better  set 
her  mind  at  rest  by  denying  their  existence. 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  are  an  orphan,  and  you 
have  neither  brothers  nor  sisters,"  he  added 
hastily.  It  was  just  as  well  to  put  a  final  stop 
to  questions  as  to  her  family. 

"  Nobody  of  my  own — nobody?  " 

"  Nobody,"  he  reiterated,  but  he  felt  like  a 
brute. 

"Have  I  any  children?"  was  her  next  question. 

Cyril  started  perceptibly. 

"  No,  no,  certainly  not."  he  was  so  embarrassed 
that  he  spoke  quite  sharply. 

"  Oh,  are  you  glad?  "  She  stared  at  him  in 
amazement  and  to  his  disgust  Cyril  felt  himself 
turning  crimson. 

"  Now  I  'm  sorry,"  she  continued  with  a  soft 


The  Jewels  135 

sigh.  "  I  wish  I  had  a  baby.  I  remember  about 
babies." 

"  I — I  like  them,  too,"  he  hastened  to  assure 
her.  Really  this  was  worse  than  he  had 
expected. 

"  How  long  have  we  been  married? "  she 
demanded. 

"  I  have  been  married  four  years,"  he  truth- 
fully answered,  hoping  that  that  statement  would 
satisfy  her. 

"  Fancy !  We  have  been  living  together  for 
four  years !  Is  n't  it  awful  that  I  can  only  re- 
member you  the  very  weeist  little  bit!  But  I 
will  love,  honour,  and  obey  you — now  that  I 
know — I  will  indeed." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  always  do  what  is  right," 
said  Cyril  with  a  sudden  tightening  of  his  throat. 
She  looked  so  young,  so  innocent,  so  serious. 
Oh,  if  only 

"  Bah,  don't  waste  too  much  love  on  me.  I  'm 
an  unworthy  beggar,"  he  said  aloud. 

"  You  are  an  unworthy  husband?  Oh !  "  She 
opened  her  eyes  wide  and  stared  at  him  in 
consternation.  "  But  it  does  n't  say  anything 
in  the  prayer-book  about  not  loving  unworthy 


136  Who  ? 

husbands.  I  don't  believe  it  makes  any  dif- 
ference to  the  vow  before  God.  Besides  you 
don't  look  unworthy — are  you  sure  you  are?  " 
she  pleaded. 

Cyril's  eyes  fell  before  her  agonised  gaze. 

"  I  '11  try  to  be  worthy  of  you,"  he  stammered. 

"  Worthy  of  me?  "  she  cried  with  a  gay,  little 
laugh.  "  I  'm  too  silly  and  stupid  now  to  be 
anything  but  a  burden — I  quite  realise  that — 
but  the  doctor  thinks  I  will  get  better  and  in 
the  meantime  I  will  try  to  please  you  and  do 
my  duty." 

Poor  baby,  thought  Cyril,  the  marriage  vows 
she  imagined  she  had  taken  seemed  to  weigh 
dreadfully  on  her  conscience.  Oh,  if  he  could 
only  undeceive  her! 

A  discreet  knock  sounded  at  the  door. 

The  nurse  made  her  appearance. 

"  The  doctor  thinks  Mrs.  Thompkins  has 
talked  enough  for  the  present,"  she  said. 

Cyril  rose  with  a  curious  mixture  of  relief  and 
reluctance. 

"  Well,  this  must  be  good-bye  for  to-day,"  he 
said,  taking  her  small  hand  in  his. 

She  lifted  up  her  face — simply  as  a  child  might 


The  Jewels  137 

have  done.  Slowly  he  leaned  nearer  to  her,  his 
heart  was  pounding  furiously;  the  blood  rushed 
to  his  temples. 

Suddenly  he  started  back!  He  must  not — he 
dare  not —  — ! 

For  a  moment  he  crushed  her  fingers  to  his 
lips;  then  turning  abruptly,  he  strode  towards 
the  door. 

"You'll  come  to-morrow,  won't  you?"  she 
cried. 

"  Yes,  to-morrow,"  he  answered. 

"  Early?  " 

"  As  early  as  I  can." 

"Good-bye,  husband.  I  will  be  so  lonely 
without  you,"  she  called  after  him,  but  he 
resolutely  closed  the  door. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  a  nurse  was  waiting 
for  him. 

"  The  doctor  would  like  to  speak  to  you  for 
a  moment,"  she  said  as  she  led  the  way  to  the 
consulting-room. 

"  Well,  how  did  you  find  Lady  Wilmersley's 
memory;  were  you  able  to  help  her  in  any  way 
to  recall  the  past,"  inquired  the  doctor. 

Cyril  was  too  preoccupied  to  notice  that  the 


138  Who? 

other's  manner  was  several  degrees  colder  than 
it  had  been  on  his  arrival. 

"  I  fear  not."  Cyril  felt  guiltily  conscious 
that  he  was  prevaricating. 

"You  astonish  me.  I  confess  I  am  disap- 
pointed. Yes,  very  much  so.  But  it  will  come 
back  to  her — I  am  sure  it  will." 

"  I  say,  doctor,  how  long  do  you  think  my 
wife  will  have  to  remain  here?  " 

"  No  longer  than  she  wishes  to.  She  could 
be  moved  to-morrow,  if  necessary,  but  I  advise 
waiting  till  the  day  after." 

"  You  are  sure  it  won't  hurt  her?  "  insisted 
Cyril  anxiously. 

"  Quite.  In  fact,  the  sooner  Lady  Wilmersley 
resumes  her  normal  life  the  better." 

"  How  soon  will  I  be  able  to  talk  freely  to 
her?  "  Cyril  asked. 

"  That  depends  largely  on  how  she  progresses, 
but  not  before  a  month  at  the  earliest.  By  the 
way,  Lord  Wilmersley,  I  want  you  to  take 
charge  of  Lady  Wilmersley's  bag.  The  contents 
were  too  valuable  to  be  left  about;  so  after 
taking  out  her  toilet  articles,  the  nurse  brought 
it  to  me." 


The  Jewels  139 

• 

"  Ah !  and — and  what  was  in  the  bag?  "  asked 
Cyril  fearfully. 

"  Lady  Wilmersley's  jewels,  of  course." 

Jewels!  This  was  terrible.  If  they  were 
those  belonging  to  his  cousin,  their  description 
had  been  published  in  every  paper  in  the  king- 
dom. It  was  a  miracle  that  Smith  had  not 
recognised  them. 

"  Of  course,"  Cyril  managed  to  stammer. 

The  doctor  went  to  a  safe  and  taking  out  a 
cheap,  black  bag  handed  it  to  Cyril. 

"  I  should  like  you,  please,  to  see  if  they  are 
all  there,"  he  said. 

"  That  is  n't  the  least  necessary,"  Cyril  has- 
tened to  assure  him. 

"  You  would  greatly  oblige  me  by  doing 
so." 

"  I  'm  quite  sure  they  are  all  right ;  besides 
if  any  are  missing,  they  were  probably  stolen 
in  Paris,"  said  Cyril. 

"  But  I  insist."  Stuart-Smith  was  nothing  if 
not  persistent.  His  keen  eyes  had  noted  Cyril's 
agitation  and  his  reluctance  to  open  the  bag 
made  the  doctor  all  the  more  determined  to 
force  him  to  do  so. 


140  Who  ? 

But  Cyril  was  too  quick  for  him.  Seizing  the 
bag,  he  made  for  the  door. 

"  I  '11  come  back  to-morrow,"  he  cried  over  his 
shoulder,  as  he  hurried  unceremoniously  out  of 
the  room  and  out  of  the  house. 

A  disreputable-looking  man  stood  at  the  door 
of  his  waiting  taxi  and  obsequiously  opened  it. 
Shouting  his  address  to  the  driver,  Cyril  flung 
himself  into  the  car  and  waved  the  beggar  im- 
patiently away. 

No  sooner  were  they  in  motion  than  Cyril 
hastened  to  open  the  bag.  A  brown  paper  parcel 
lay  at  the  bottom  of  it.  He  undid  the  string 
with  trembling  fingers.  Yes,  it  was  as  he  feared 
— a  part,  if  not  all,  of  the  Wilmersley  jewels 
lay  before  him. 

"  Give  me  a  penny,  for  the  love  of  Gawd," 
begged  a  hoarse  voice  at  his  elbow.  The  beggar 
was  still  clinging  to  the  step  and  his  villainous 
face  was  within  a  foot  of  the  jewels. 

Cyril  felt  himself  grow  cold  with  apprehension. 
The  fellow  knew  who  he  was,  and  followed  him. 
He  was  a  detective! 

"  A  gen'lman  like  you  could  well  spare  a  poor 
man  a  penny,"  the  fellow  whined,  but  there  was 


The  Jewels  141 

a  note  of  menace  in  his  voice.  Cyril  tried  to 
get  a  good  look  at  him,  but  the  light  was  too 
dim  for  him  to  distinguish  his  features  clearly. 

Hastily  covering  the  jewels,  Cyril  thrust  a 
coin  into  the  grimy  hand. 

"  Go ! "  he  commanded,  "  go,  OP  I  '11  call  the 
police." 

The  man  sank  out  of  sight. 

"  My  poor  little  girl,  my  poor  little  girl,"  mur- 
mured Cyril  disconsolately,  as  he  glanced  once 
more  at  the  incriminating  jewels. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  TWO  FRENCHMEN 

"  You  must  be  mad,  Cyril !  No  sane  man 
could  have  got  into  such  a  mess ! "  cried  Guy 
Campbell,  excitedly  pounding  his  fat  knee  with 
his  podgy  hand. 

Cyril  had  been  so  disturbed  by  the  finding  of 
the  Wilmersley  jewels  that  he  had  at  last  de- 
cided that  he  must  confide  his  troubles  to  some 
one.  He  realised  that  the  time  had  come  when 
he  needed  not  only  advice  but  assistance.  He 
was  now  so  convinced  that  he  was  being  watched 
that  he  had  fled  to  his  club  for  safety.  There, 
at  all  events,  he  felt  comparatively  safe  from 
prying  eyes,  and  it  was  there  in  a  secluded  corner 
that  he  poured  his  tale  of  woe  into  his  friend's 
astonished  ears. 

"  You  must  be  mad,"  the  latter  repeated. 

"  If  that  is  all  you  can  find  to  say,  I  am  sorry 

I  told  you,"  exclaimed  Cyril  irritably. 

142 


The  Two  Frenchmen  143 

"  It 's  a  jolly  good  thing  you  did !  Why,  you 
are  no  more  fit  to  take  care  of  yourself  than  a 
new-born  baby."  Guy's  chubby  face  expressed 
such  genuine  concern  that  Cyril  relaxed  a  little. 

"  Perhaps  I  've  been  a  bit  of  an  ass,  but  really 
I  don't  see  what  else  I  could  have  done." 

"  No,  don't  suppose  you  do,"  said  Guy,  regard- 
ing Cyril  with  pitying  admiration. 

"  Oh,  don't  rub  it  in !  The  question  now  is 
not  what  I  ought  to  have  done,  but  what  am 
I  to  do  now?  " 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do?  " 

"  I  have  n't  the  slightest  idea.  I  want  your 
advice." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't !  Why,  you  would  n't  even 
listen  to  a  sensible  suggestion." 

"What  do  you  call  a  sensible  suggestion?" 
Cyril  cautiously  inquired. 

"  To  get  the  girl  out  of  the  nursing  home  and 
lose  her.  And  it  ought  to  be  done  P.  D.  Q.,  as 
the  Americans  say." 

"  I  shall  certainly  do  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"  Exactly,"  cried  Campbell  triumphantly.  "  I 
know  you,  Lord  Quixote;  you  have  some  crazy 
plan  in  your  head.  Out  with  it." 


144  Who  ? 

"  I  have  n't  a  plan,  I  tell  you.  Now  as  I  am 
being  followed " 

"  I  can't  believe  you  are,"  interrupted  Guy. 

"  I  feel  sure  that  that  beggar  I  told  you  about 
was  a  detective." 

"  Why?  " 

"  He  was  evidently  waiting  for  me  and  I 
couldn't  shake  him  off  till  he  had  had  a  good 
look  at  the  jewels." 

"  It  is  much  more  likely  that  he  was  waiting 
for  a  penny  than  for  you,  and  beggars  are  usually 
persistent.  I  see  no  possible  reason  why  the 
police  should  be  shadowing  you.  It  is  your 
guilty  conscience  that  makes  you  so  suspicious." 

"  You  may  be  right;  I  certainly  hope  you  are, 
but  till  I  am  sure  of  it,  I  don't  dare  to  run  the 
risk  of  being  seen  with  Miss  Prentice.  As  she 
is  in  no  condition  to  go  about  alone,  I  have 
been  worrying  a  good  deal  as  to  how  to  get  her 
out  of  the  Home;  so  I  thought — it  occurred  to 
me — that — you  are  the  person  to  do  it." 

"  Thanks,  awfully !  So  you  leave  me  the 
pleasant  task  of  running  off  with  a  servant- 
girl  who  is  "  wanted  "  by  the  police !  You  are 
really  too  unselfish !  " 


The  Two  Frenchmen  145 

"  Miss  Prentice  is  a  lady,"  Cyril  angrily 
asserted. 

"H'm,"  Campbell  ejaculated  skeptically.  "That 
she  is  a  beauty  I  do  not  doubt,  and  she  has 
certainly  played  her  cards  very  skilfully." 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  speak  of  her  like  that," 
cried  Cyril,  clenching  his  fists  and  half  starting 
to  his  feet. 

"  By  Jove,  old  man !  You  're  smitten  with 
her,"  exclaimed  Campbell,  staring  aghast  at 
his  friend. 

Cyril  flushed  darkly  under  his  tan. 

"  Certainly  not,  but  I  have  the  greatest  re- 
spect for  this  unfortunate  young  woman,  and 
don't  you  forget  it  again." 

Campbell  smiled  incredulously. 

"  Oh,  very  well !  Believe  what  you  like,  but 
I  did  n't  think  you  were  the  sort  of  man  who 
never  credits  a  fellow  with  disinterested  motives, 
if  he  behaves  half-way  decently  to  a  woman." 

"  Steady  now,  Cyril.  Don't  let 's  quarrel. 
You  mustn't  take  offence  so  easily.  I  have 
never  seen  the  young  lady,  remember.  And 
you  know  I  will  help  you  even  against  my  better 
judgment." 


146  Who  ? 

"  You  're  a  good  chap,  Guy." 

"  Thanks !  Now  let  us  first  of  all  consider 
Miss  Prentice's  case  dispassionately.  I  want  to 
be  sure  of  my  facts;  then  I  may  be  able  to  form 
some  conjecture  as  to  why  Wilmersley  was  mur- 
dered and  how  the  jewels  came  into  Miss  Pren- 
tice's possession.  You  tell  me  that  it  has  been 
proved  that  she  really  left  Geralton  on  the  after- 
noon before  the  murder?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  carrier  swears  he  drove  her  into 
Newhaven  and  put  her  down  near  the  station. 
Further  than  that  they  have  luckily  not  been 
able  to  trace  her." 

"  Now  your  idea  is  that  Miss  Prentice,  having 
in  some  way  managed  to  secure  a  car,  returned 
to  Geralton  that  evening  and  got  into  the  castle 
through  the  library  window?  " 

"  No,  I  doubt  if  she  entered  the  castle.  I  can 
think  of  no  reason  why  she  should  have  done 
so,"  said  Cyril. 

"  In  that  case,  how  do  you  account  for  her 
injuries?  Who  could  have  flogged  her  except 
your  charming  cousin?  " 

"  I  had  n't  thought  of  that !  "  exclaimed  Cyril. 

"  Granting  that  she  is  Priscilla  Prentice,  the 


The  Two  Frenchmen  147 

only  hypothesis  I  can  think  of  which  explains 
her  predicament  is  this:  Having  planned  to 
rescue  her  mistress,  she  was  only  waiting  for 
a  favourable  opportunity  to  present  itself.  The 
doctor's  visit  determined  her  to  act  at  once.  I 
agree  with  you  that  to  re-enter  Geralton  was 
not  her  original  intention,  but  while  waiting 
under  the  library  window  for  Lady  Wilmersley 
to  join  her,  she  hears  Wilmersley  ill-treating  his 
wife,  so  she  climbs  in  and  rushes  to  the  latter's 
assistance." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  assented  Cyril  with  shining  eyes. 

"  But  she  is  overpowered  by  Wilmersley," 
continued  Campbell,  warming  to  his  theme, 
"  who,  insane  with  rage,  flogs  her  unmercifully. 
Then  Lady  Wilmersley,  fearing  the  girl  will  be 
killed,  seizes  the  pistol,  which  is  lying  on  the 
desk,  and  fires  at  her  husband— 

"  I  am  convinced  that  that  is  just  what  hap- 
pened," cried  Cyril. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  it ;  still,  it  seems  to  me 
that  that  theory  hangs  together  pretty  well," 
Campbell  complacently  agreed.  "  Of  course, 
neither  woman  contemplated  murder.  Wilmer- 
sley's  death  completely  unnerved  them.  If  the 


148  Who? 

gardener's  wife  heard  a  cry  coming  from  the 
car,  it  is  possible  that  one  or  the  other  had  an 
attack  of  hysterics.  Now  about  the  jewels — I 
believe  Miss  Prentice  took  charge  of  them,  either 
because  Lady  Wilmersley  was  unfit  to  assume 
such  a  responsibility  or  because  they  agreed  that 
she  could  the  more  easily  dispose  of  them.  I 
think  that  Miss  Prentice's  hurried  trip  to  town 
was  undertaken  not  in  order  to  avoid  arrest, 
but  primarily  to  raise  money,  of  which  they 
must  have  had  great  need,  and  possibly  also  to 
rejoin  her  mistress,  who,  now  that  we  know  that 
she  made  her  escape  in  a  car,  is  probably  hiding 
somewhere  either  in  London  itself  or  in  its 
vicinity." 

"  Guy,  you  are  a  wonder.  You  have  thought 
of  everything,"  cried  Cyril  admiringly. 

"  Of  course,  I  may  be  quite  wrong.  These 
are  only  suppositions,  remember,"  Campbell 
modestly  reminded  him.  "  By  the  way,  what 
have  you  done  with  the  jewels?  I  can't  believe 
that  you  are  in  any  danger  of  arrest,  but  if 
there  is  the  remotest  chance  of  such  a  thing,  it 
wouldn't  look  very  well  if  they  were  found  in 
your  possession." 


The  Two  Frenchmen  149 

"  I  had  thought  of  that.  I  was  even  afraid 
that  my  rooms  might  be  searched  in  my  absence, 
so  I  took  them  with  me." 

"  They  are  here?  " 

"  Yes,  in  my  pocket.  I  have  hidden  the  bag 
and  to-night  I  mean  to  burn  it." 

"  Your  pocket  is  not  a  very  safe  repository." 

"  Exactly.  That  is  why  I  want  you  to  take 
charge  of  them,"  said  Cyril. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  sighed  Campbell,  with  mock 
resignation.  "  In  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound. 
I  shall  probably  end  by  being  arrested  as  a 
receiver  of  stolen  property!  But  now  we  must 
consider  what  we  had  better  do  with  Miss 
Prentice." 

"  I  think  I  shall  hire  a  cottage  in  the  country 
for  her." 

"  If  you  did  that,  the  police  would  find  her 
immediately.  The  only  safe  hiding-place  is  a 
crowd." 

"  You  think  so?  "    Cyril  looked  doubtful. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  Now  let  me  see :  Where 
is  she  least  likely  to  attract  attention?  It  must 
be  a  place  where  you  could  manage  to  see  her 
without  being  compromised,  and,  if  possible, 


150  Who? 

without  being  observed.  I  have  it !  A  hotel.  The 
Hotel  George  is  the  very  place.  In  a  huge  cara- 
vansary like  that  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
people  jostle  each  other  without  exciting  com- 
ment. Besides,  the  police  are  less  likely  to  look 
among  the  guests  of  such  an  expensive  hotel  for 
a  poor  maid  servant  or  in  such  a  public  resort 
for  a  fugitive  from  justice." 

"  You  are  right !  "  cried  Cyril  enthusiastically. 

"  But  in  her  present  condition,"  continued 
Campbell,  "  I  don't  see  how  she  could  remain 
there  alone." 

"  Certainly  not.  She  must  have  some  woman 
with  her." 

"  Exactly.  But  what  trustworthy  woman 
could  you  get  to  undertake  such  a  task?  Per- 
haps one  of  the  nurses " 

"  No,"  Cyril  hastily  interrupted  him.  "  When 
she  leaves  the  nursing  home,  all  trace  of  her 
must  be  lost.  At  any  moment  the  police  may 
discover  that  a  woman  whom  I  have  represented 
to  be  my  wife  has  been  a  patient  there.  That 
will  naturally  arouse  their  suspicions  and  they 
will  do  their  utmost  to  discover  who  it  is  that 
I  am  protecting  with  my  name.  No,  a  nurse 


The  Two  Frenchmen  151 

would  never  do.  For  one  thing,  she  would  feel 
called  upon  to  report  to  the  doctor." 

"  You  might  bribe  her  not  to  do  so,"  suggested 
Guy. 

"  I  should  n't  dare  to  trust  to  an  absolutely 
unknown  quantity.  Oh,  if  I  only  knew  a  re- 
spectable woman  on  whom  I  could  rely!  I 
would  pay  her  a  small  fortune  for  her  services." 

"  I  know  somebody  who  might  do,"  said  Camp- 
bell. "  Her  name  is  Miss  Trevor  and  she  used 
to  be  my  sister's  governess.  She  is  too  old  to 
teach  now  and  I  fancy  has  a  hard  time  to  make 
both  ends  meet.  The  only  trouble  is  that  she  is 
so  conscientious  that  she  would  rather  starve 
than  be  mixed  up  in  anything  she  did  not  con- 
sider perfectly  honourable  and  above  board.  If 
I  told  her  that  she  was  to  chaperon  a  young 
lady  whom  the  police  were  looking  for,  she  would 
be  so  indignant  that  I  doubt  if  she  would  ever 
speak  to  me  again." 

"  Why  tell  her?  "  insinuated  Cyril. 

"  It  does  n't  seem  decent  to  inveigle  her  by 
false  representations  into  taking  a  position 
which  she  would  never  dream  of  accepting  if 
she  knew  the  truth." 


152  Who? 

"  I  will  pay  her  £200  a  year  as  long  as  she 
lives,  if  she  will  look  after  Miss  Prentice 
till  this  trouble  is  over.  Even  if  the  worst  hap- 
pens and  the  girl  is  discovered,  she  can  truth- 
fully plead  ignorance  of  the  latter's  identity," 
urged  Cyril. 

"  True,  and  two  hundred  a  year  is  good  pay 
even  for  unpleasant  notoriety.  Yes,  on  the  whole 
I  think  I  am  justified  in  accepting  the  offer  for 
her.  But  now  we  must  consider  what  fairy  tale 
we  are  going  to  concoct  for  her  benefit." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  sighed  Cyril  wearily. 

"  Imagination  giving  out,  or  conscience  awak- 
ening— which  is  it?  "  asked  Guy. 

"Don't  chaff!" 

"  Sorry,  old  man ;  but  joking  aside,  we  must 
really  decide  what  we  are  to  tell  Miss  Trevor. 
You  can  no  longer  pose  as  Miss  Prentice's 
husband " 

"  Why  not?  "  interrupted  Cyril  sharply. 

"  What  possible  excuse  have  you  for  doing  so, 
now  that  she  is  to  leave  the  doctor's  care?  " 

"  I  am  sure  it  would  have  a  very  bad  effect  on 
Miss  Prentice's  health,  if  I  were  to  tell  her  that 
she  is  not  my  wife." 


The  Two  Frenchmen  153 

"  H'm,  h'm ! "  Campbell  regarded  his  friend, 
quizzically. 

"  Remember,  she  is  completely  cut  off  from  the 
past,"  urged  Cyril ;  "  she  has  neither  friend  nor 
relation  to  cling  to.  I  am  the  one  person  in 
the  world  she  believes  she  has  a  claim  on.  I 
can't  undeceive  her.  Besides,  the  doctor's 
orders  are  that  she  shall  not  be  in  any  way 
1  agitated." 

"  Well,  that  settles  that  question.  Now  what 
explanation  will  you  give  Miss  Trevor  for  not 
living  with  your  wife?  " 

"  I  shall  say  that  her  state  of  health  renders 
it  inadvisable  for  the  present." 

"  What  shall  she  be  called?  "  asked  Campbell. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  stick  to  Thompkins. 
She  is  accustomed  to  that.  Only  we  will  spell 
it  Tomkyns  and  change  the  Christian  name  to 
John." 

"  But  won't  she  confide  what  she  believes  to 
be  her  real  name  to  Miss  Trevor?  "  asked  Guy 
anxiously. 

"  I  think  not — not  if  I  tell  her  I  don't  wish 
her  to  do  so.  She  has  a  great  idea  of  wifely 
obedience,  I  assure  you." 


154  Who  ? 

"  Well,"  laughed  Guy,  "  that  is  a  virtue  which 
so  few  real  wives  possess  that  it  seems  a  pity  it 
should  be  wasted  on  a  temporary  one.  And  now, 
Cyril,  we  must  decide  on  the  best  way  and  the 
best  time  for  transferring  Miss  Prentice  to  the 
hotel." 

"  Unless  something  unexpected  occurs  to 
change  our  plans,  I  think  she  had  better  be 
moved  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I  advise  your 
starting  as  early  as  possible  before  the  world 
is  well  awake.  But  I  leave  all  details  to  you. 
You  are  quite  capable  of  managing  the  situation. 
Only  be  sure  you  are  not  followed,  that  is  all 
I  ask." 

"  I  don't  expect  we  shall  be,  but  if  we  are,  I 
think  I  can  promise  to  outwit  them,"  Campbell 
assured  him. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  what  you  are  doing  for 
me,  Guy." 

"  You  had  better  not.  I  expect  you  to  erect 
a  monument  commemorating  my  virtues  and  my 
folly.  Now  I  must  be  off.  Where  are  those 
stolen  goods  of  which  I  am  to  become  the 
custodian?  " 

"  Here  they  are.     I   have  done  them  up  in 


The  Two  Frenchmen  155 

several  parcels,  so  that  they  are  not  too  bulky 
to  carry.  As  I  don't  want  the  police  to  know 
how  intimate  we  are,  it  is  better  that  we  should 
not  be  seen  together  in  public  for  the  present." 

"  I  think  you  are  over-cautious.  But  per- 
haps," agreed  Campbell,  "  we  might  as  well  meet 
here  till  all  danger  is  over." 

A  few  minutes  later  Cyril  also  left  the  club. 
His  talk  with  Campbell  had  been  a  great  relief 
to  him.  As  he  walked  briskly  along,  he  felt 
calm — almost  cheerful. 

"Isn't  this  Lord  Wilmersley? "  inquired  a 
deep  voice  at  his  elbow. 

Turning  quickly  Cyril  recognised  Inspector 
Griggs. 

For  a  moment  Cyril  was  too  startled  to  speak. 
Then,  pulling  himself  together,  he  exclaimed 
with  an  attempt  at  heartiness: 

"  Why,  Inspector !  I  thought  you  were  in 
Newhaven.  What  has  brought  you  to  town?" 

"  I  only  left  Newhaven  this  afternoon,  but  I 
think  my  work  there  is  finished — for  the  present 
at  least." 

"  Really?  Have  you  already  solved  the 
mysterv?  " 


156  Who? 

"  No  indeed,  but  the  clue  now  leads  away  from 
Geralton." 

"Clue?  What  clue?"  Cyril  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  control  the  tremor  in  his  voice. 

"  If  you  '11  excuse  me,  my  lord,  I  had  better 
keep  my  suppositions  to  myself  till  I  am  able 
to  verify  them." 

The  man  suspected  him!  But  why?  What 
had  he  discovered?  Cyril  felt  he  could  not  let 
him  go  before  he  had  ascertained  exactly  what 
he  had  to  fear.  It  was  so  awful,  this  fighting 
in  the  dark. 

"  If  you  have  half  an  hour  to  spare,  come  to 
my  rooms.  They  are  only  a  few  doors  away." 
Cyril  was  convinced  that  the  Inspector  knew 
where  he  was  staying  and  had  been  lying  in 
wait  for  him.  He  thought  it  best  to  pretend 
that  he  felt  above  suspicion. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord." 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  sitting  before 
a  blazing  fire,  the  Inspector  puffing  luxuriously 
at  a  cigar  and  sipping  from  time  to  time  a  glass 
of  whiskey  and  soda  which  Peter  had  reluc- 
tantly placed  at  his  elbow.  Peter,  as  he  himself 
would  have  put  it,  "  did  not  hold  with  the 


The  Two  Frenchmen  157 

police,"  and  thought  his  master  was  sadly  de- 
meaning himself  by  fraternising  with  a  member 
of  that  calling. 

"  I  quite  understand  your  reluctance  to  talk 
about  a  case,"  said  Cyril,  reverting  at  once  to 
the  subject  he  had  in  mind;  "but  as  this  one 
so  nearly  concerns  my  family  and  consequently 
myself,  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  your  confidence. 
I  am  most  anxious  to  know  what  you  have  dis- 
covered. This  mystery  is  weighing  on  me.  I 
assure  you,  you  can  rely  on  my  discretion." 

"  Well,  my  lord,  it 's  a  bit  unprofessional,  but 
seeing  it 's  you,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do.  It 's  the 
newspaper  men,  I  am  afraid  of." 

"  I  shall  not  mention  what  you  tell  me  to 
any  one  except  possibly  to  one  friend,"  Cyril 
hastily  assured  him. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord.  You  see  I  may  be  all 
wrong,  so  I  don't  wrant  to  say  too  much  till  I 
can  prove  my  case." 

"  I  understand  that,"  said  Cyril ;  "  and  this 
clue  that  you  are  following — what  is  it? "  he 
inquired  with  breathless  impatience. 

"  The  car,  my  lord,"  answered  the  Inspector, 
settling  himself  deeper  in  his  chair,  while  his 


158  Who? 

eyes  began  to  gleam  with  suppressed  excite- 
ment. 

"  You  have  found  the  car  in  which  her  lady- 
ship made  her  escape?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that  yet,  but  I  have 
found  the  car  that  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
long  lane  on  the  night  of  the  murder." 

"  Remarkable ! " 

"  Oh,  that 's  not  so  very  wonderful,"  protested 
the  Inspector  with  an  attempt  at  modesty,  but 
he  was  evidently  bursting  with  pride  in  his 
achievement. 

"  How  did  you  do  it?  What  had  you  to  go 
on?"  asked  Cyril  with  genuine  amazement. 

"  I  began  my  search  by  trying  to  find  out  what 
cars  had  been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Geralton  on  the  night  of  the  murder — by  neigh- 
bourhood I  mean  a  radius  of  twenty-five  miles. 
I  found,  as  I  expected,  that  half -past  eleven  not 
being  a  favourite  hour  for  motoring,  compara- 
tively few  had  been  seen  or  heard.  Most  of 
these  turned  out  to  be  the  property  of  gentlemen 
wrho  had  no  difficulty  in  proving  that  they  had 
been  used  only  for  perfectly  legitimate  purposes. 
There  remained,  however,  two  cars  of  which  I 


The  Two  Frenchmen  159 

failed  to  get  a  satisfactory  account.  One  be- 
longs to  a  Mr.  Benedict,  a  young  man  who  owns 
a  place  about  ten  miles  from  Geralton,  and  who 
seems  to  have  spent  the  evening  motoring  wildly 
over  the  country.  He  pretends  he  had  no  par- 
ticular object,  and  as  he  is  a  bit  queer,  it  may 
be  true.  The  other  car  is  the  property  of  the 
landlord  of  the  Red  Lion  Inn,  a  very  respectable 
hotel  in  Newhaven.  I  then  sent  two  of  my  men 
to  examine  these  cars  and  report  if  either  of 
them  has  a  new  tire,  for  the  gardener's  wife 
swore  that  the  car  she  heard  had  burst  one. 
Mr.  Benedict's  tires  all  showed  signs  of  wear, 
but  the  Red  Lion  car  has  a  brand  new  one ! " 

"  Bravo !     That  is  a  fine  piece  of  work." 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing,"  replied  the  Inspector, 
vainly  trying  to  suppress  a  self-satisfied  smile. 

"  Did  you  find  any  further  evidence  against 
this  hotel-keeper?  What  connection  had  he  with 
the  castle?  "  inquired  Cyril. 

"  He  knew  Lord  Wilmersley  slightly,  but  says 
he  has  never  even  seen  her  Ladyship.  And  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  him." 

"  In  that  case  what  part  does  he  play  in  the 
affair?  " 


160  Who? 

"  None,  I  fancy.  You  see  lie  keeps  the  car  for 
the  convenience  of  his  guests  and  on  the  day 
in  question  it  had  been  hired  by  two  young 
Frenchmen,  who  were  out  in  it  from  two  o'clock 
till  midnight." 

"  Frenchmen !  But  how  could  they  have  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  tragedy?  " 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen.  So  far  all  I  have 
been  able  to  find  out  about  these  two  men  is 
that  they  landed  in  Newhaven  ten  days  before 
the  murder.  They  professed  to  be  brothers  and 
called  themselves  Joseph  and  Paul  Durand. 
They  seemed  to  be  amply  provided  with  money 
and  wanted  the  best  the  hotel  had  to  offer. 
Joseph  Durand  appeared  a  decent  sort  of  fel- 
low, but  the  younger  one  drank.  The  waiters 
fancy  that  the  elder  man  used  to  remonstrate 
with  him  occasionally,  but  the  youngster  paid 
very  little  attention  to  him." 

"  You  say  they  professed  to  be  brothers.  Why 
do  you  doubt  their  relationship?  " 

"  For  one  reason,  the  elder  one  did  not  under- 
stand a  word  of  English,  while  the  young  one 
spoke  it  quite  easily,  although  with  a  strong 
accent.  That  is,  he  spoke  it  with  a  strong  ac- 


The  Two  Frenchmen  161 

cent  when  he  was  sober,  but  when  under  the 
influence  of  liquor  this  accent  disappeared. 

"  And  what  has  become  of  the  pair?  " 

"  They  left  Newhaven  the  morning  after  the 
murder.  Their  departure  was  very  hurried,  and 
the  landlord  is  sure  that  the  day  before  they  had 
no  intention  of  leaving." 

"  Where  did  they  go  to?  " 

"  They  took  the  boat  to  Dieppe.  The  porter 
saw  them  off." 

"  Have  you  been  able  to  trace  them  farther?  " 

"  Not  yet,  my  lord,  but  I  have  sent  one  of 
my  men  to  try  and  follow  them  up,  and  I  have 
notified  the  continental  police  to  be  on  the  look- 
out for  them.  It 's  a  pity  that  they  have  three 
days'  start  of  us." 

"  But  as  you  have  an  accurate  description  of 
both,  I  should  imagine  that  they  will  soon  be 
found." 

"  It 's  through  the  young  'un  they  '11  be 
caught,  if  they  are  caught." 

"  Why,  is  he  deformed  in  any  way?  " 

"  No,  my  lord,  but  they  tell  me  he  is  ab- 
normally small  for  a  man  of  his  age,  for  he 
must  be  twenty-two  or  three  at  the  very  least. 


162  Who  ? 

The  landlord  believes  that  he  is  a  jockey  who 
had  got  into  bad  habits,  and  that  the  elder  man 
is  his  trainer  or  backer.  Of  course,  he  may  be 
right,  but  the  waiters  pooh-pooh  the  idea.  They 
insist  that  the  boy  is  a  gentleman-born  and  ser- 
vants are  pretty  good  judges  of  such  things, 
though  you  might  n't  think  it,  my  lord." 

"  I  can  quite  believe  it,"  assented  Cyril.  "  But 
then  there  are  many  gentlemen  jockeys." 

"  So  there  are.  I  only  wish  I  had  seen  the 
little  fellow,  for  they  all  agree  that  there  was 
something  about  him  which  would  make  it  im- 
possible for  any  one  who  had  once  met  him 
ever  to  forget  him  again." 

"  That  certainly  is  a  most  unusual  quality." 

"  So  it  is,  my  lord.  They  also  tell  me  that 
if  his  eyes  had  not  been  so  bloodshot,  and  if  he 
had  not  looked  so  drawn  and  haggard,  he  'd 
have  been  an  extraordinarily  good-looking  chap." 

"  Eeally?  " 

"  Yes.  It  seems  that  he  has  large  blue  eyes, 
a  fine  little  nose,  not  a  bit  red  as  you  would 
expect,  and  as  pretty  a  mouth  as  ever  you  'd 
see.  His  hair  is  auburn  and  he  wears  it  rather 
long,  which  I  don't  think  he  'd  do  if  he  were  a 


The  Two  Frenchmen  163 

jockey.  Besides,  his  skin  is  as  fine  as  a  baby's, 
though  its  colour  is  a  grey-white  with  only  a 
spot  of  red  in  the  middle  of  each  cheek." 

"  He  must  be  a  queer-looking  beggar !  " 

"  That 's  just  it.  That 's  why  I  think  we  shall 
soon  spot  him." 

"  What  did  the  elder  Durand  look  like?  " 

"  The  ordinary  type  of  Frenchman.  He  is 
about  twenty-eight  years  old,  medium  height, 
and  inclined  to  be  stout.  He  has  dark  hair,  a 
little  thin  at  the  temples,  dark  moustache,  and 
dark  eyes.  His  features  are  nondescript." 

"  On  the  night  of  the  murder  you  say  they 
returned  to  the  hotel  at  about  midnight?" 

"  Somewhere  around  then." 

"  Was  their  behaviour  in  any  way  noticeable?  " 

"  The  porter  was  so  sleepy  that  he  can't  re- 
member much  about  it.  He  had  an  impression 
that  they  came  in  arm  in  arm  and  went  quietly 
upstairs." 

"  They  were  alone?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  they  had  done  with 
Lady  Wilmersley?" 

"  But,  my  lord,  you  did  n't  expect  that  they 


164  Who? 

would  bring  her  to  the  hotel,  did  you?  If  they 
were  her  friends,  their  first  care  would  be  for 
her  safety.  If  they  were  not — well,  we  will  have 
to  look  for  another  victim,  that  is  all." 

"  You  think  that  there  is  that  possibility?  " 
inquired  Cyril  eagerly. 

"  I  do,  my  lord."  The  Inspector  rose  pon- 
derously to  his  feet.  "  I  must  n't  keep  you  any 
longer."  He  hesitated  a  moment,  eyeing  Cyril 
doubtfully.  There  was  evidently  still  some- 
thing he  wished  to  say. 

Cyril  had  also  risen  to  his  feet  and  stood 
leaning  against  the  mantelpiece,  idly  wondering 
at  the  man's  embarrassment. 

"  I  trust  her  Ladyship  has  quite  recovered?  " 
the  Inspector  finally  blurted  out. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  INSPECTOR   INTERVIEWS   CYRIL 

CYRIL  felt  the  muscles  of  his  face  stiffen.  He 
had  for  days  been  dreading  some  such  question, 
yet  now  that  it  had  finally  come,  it  had  found 
him  completely  unprepared.  He  must  parry  it 
if  he  could.  He  must  fight  for  her  till  the  last 
ditch. 

But  how  devilishly  clever  of  Griggs  to  have 
deferred  his  attack  until  he  was  able  to  catch 
his  adversary  off  his  guard !  Cyril  looked  keenly 
but,  he  hoped,  calmly  at  the  Inspector.  Their 
eyes  met,  but  without  the  clash  which  Cyril 
had  expected.  The  man's  expression,  although 
searching,  was  not  hostile;  in  fact,  there  was 
something  almost  apologetic  about  his  whole 
attitude.  Griggs  was  not  sure  of  his  ground, 
that  much  was  obvious.  He  knew  something, 

he  probably  suspected  more,  but  there  was  still 

165 


166  Who? 

a  chance  that  he  might  be  led  away  from  the 
trail. 

Cyril's  mind  worked  with  feverish  rapidity. 
He  realised  that  it  was  imperative  that  his  man- 
ner should  appear  perfectly  natural.  But  how 
would  an  innocent  man  behave?  He  must  first 
decide  what  his  position,  viewed  from  Griggs's 
standpoint,  really  was.  He  must  have  a  definite 
conception  of  his  part  before  he  attempted  to 
act  it. 

The  Inspector  evidently  knew  that  a  young 
woman,  who  bore  Cyril's  name,  had  been  taken 
ill  on  the  Newhaven  train.  He  was  no  doubt 
also  aware  that  she  was  now  under  the  care  of 
Dr.  Stuart-Smith.  But  if  the  Inspector  really 
believed  the  girl  to  be  his  wife,  these  facts  were 
in  no  way  incriminating.  Yet  the  man  smelt 
a  rat!  He  must,  therefore,  know  more  of  the 
truth.  No,  for  if  he  had  discovered  that  the 
girl  was  not  Lady  Wilmersley,  Cyril  was  sure 
that  Griggs  would  not  have  broached  the  sub- 
ject so  tentatively.  What  then  had  aroused  the 
man's  suspicions?  Ah,  he  had  it!  He  had  told 
every  one  who  inquired  about  his  wife  that  she 
was  still  on  the  continent.  Peter,  also,  obeying 


The  Inspector  Interviews  Cyril     167 

his  orders,  had  repeated  the  same  story  in  the 
servants'  hall.  And,  of  course,  Griggs  knew 
that  they  were  both  lying.  No  wonder  he  was 
suspicious ! 

"  She  is  much  better,  thank  you.  But  how 
did  you  hear  of  her  illness?  I  have  not  men- 
tioned it  to  any  one."  Cyril  flattered  himself 
that  his  voice  had  exactly  the  right  note  of 
slightly  displeased  surprise.  He  watched  the 
Inspector  breathlessly.  Had  he  said  the  right 
thing?  Yes,  for  Griggs's  expression  relaxed  and 
he  answered  with  a  smile  that  was  almost 
deprecating : 

"  I,  of  course,  saw  the  report  of  the  man  who 
searched  the  train,  and  I  was  naturally  surprised 
to  find  that  the  only  lady  who  had  taken  her 
ticket  in  Newhaven  was  Mrs.  Cyril  Crichton. 
In  a  case  like  this  we  have  to  verify  everything, 
so  when  I  discovered  that  the  gentleman  who 
was  with  her,  was  undoubtedly  your  Lordship, 
it  puzzled  me  a  good  deal  why  both  you  and 
your  valet  should  be  so  anxious  to  keep  her  Lady- 
ship's presence  in  England  a  secret." 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  must  have  astonished  you,  and 
I  confess  I  am  very  sorry  you  found  me  out," 


i68  Who? 

said  Cyril.  He  had  his  cue  now.  The  old  lie 
must  be  told  once  more.  "  Her  Ladyship  is  suf- 
fering from  a — a  nervous  affection."  He  hesi- 
tated purposely.  "  In  fact — she  has  just  left  an 
insane  asylum,"  he  finally  blurted  out. 

"  You  mean  that  the  present  Lady  Wilmersley 
— not  the  Dowager — ?  "  The  Inspector  was  too 
surprised  to  finish  his  sentence. 

"  Yes,  it 's  queer,  is  n't  it,  that  both  should 
be  afflicted  in  the  same  way,"  agreed  Cyril, 
calmly  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  Most  remarkable,"  ejaculated  Griggs,  staring 
fixedly  at  Cyril. 

"  As  the  doctors  believe  that  her  Ladyship  will 
completely  recover,  I  didn't  want  any  one  to 
know  that  she  had  ever  been  unbalanced.  But  T 
might  have  known  that  it  was  bound  to  leak  out." 

"  We  are  no  gossips,  my  lord ;  I  shall  not 
mention  what  you  have  told  me  to  any  one." 

"  Thanks.  But  if  the  whole  police  depart- 
ment  ?  " 

"  They  have  got  too  much  to  do,  to  bother 
about  what  does  n't  concern  them.  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  dozen  of  them  noticed  that  in  searching 
the  train  for  one  Lady  Wilmersley,  they  had 


The  Inspector  Interviews  Cyril    169 

inadvertently  stumbled  on  another,  and  as  the 
latter  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  case,  they 
probably  dismissed  the  whole  thing  from  their 
minds.  I  know  them ! " 

"  But  you— ''  suggested  Cyril. 

"  Well,  you  see,  it 's  different  with  me.  It 's 
the  business  of  my  men  to  bring  me  isolated 
facts,  but  I  have  to  take  a  larger  view  of  the 
— the — the — ah — possibilities.  I  have  got  to 
think  of  everything — suspect  every  one." 

"  Even  me?  "  asked  Cyril  quickly. 

"  Your  Lordship  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
proving  an  alibi." 

"  So  you  took  the  trouble  to  find  that  out?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  lord." 

"  But  why?  I  should  really  like  to  know  what 
could  have  led  you  to  suspect  me?  " 

"  I  did  n't  suspect  you,  my  lord.  I  only 
thought  of  you.  You  see,  Lady  Wilmersley  must 
have  had  an  accomplice  and  you  must  acknow- 
ledge that  it  was  a  strange  coincidence  that 
your  Lordship  should  have  happened  to  pass 
through  Newhaven  at  that  particular  moment, 
especially  as  the  Newhaven  route  is  not  very 
popular  with  people  of  your  means." 


170  Who  ? 

"  Quite  so.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  no 
intention  of  taking  it,  but  I  missed  the  Calais 
train." 

"  I  see,"  Griggs  nodded  his  head  as  if  the 
explanation  fully  satisfied  him.  "  Would  you 
mind,  my  lord,"  he  continued  after  a  brief  pause, 
"  if,  now  that  we  are  on  the  subject,  I  asked 
you  a  few  questions?  There  are  several  points 
which  are  bothering  me.  Of  course,  don't  an- 
swer, if  you  had  rather  not." 

"You  mean  if  my  answers  are  likely  to  in- 
criminate me.  Well,  I  don't  think  they  will,  so 
fire  ahead,"  drawled  Cyril,  trying  to  express  by 
his  manner  a  slight  weariness  of  the  topic. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord."  Griggs  looked  a 
trifle  abashed,  but  he  persisted.  "  I  have  been 
wondering  how  it  was  that  you  met  her  Lady- 
ship in  Newhaven,  if  you  had  no  previous 
intention  of  taking  that  route?  " 

Cyril  was  ready  with  his  answer. 

"  It  was  quite  accidental.  The  fact  is,  her 
Ladyship  escaped  from  an  asylum  near  Fon- 
tainebleau  over  a  fortnight  ago.  I  scoured 
France  for  her  but  finally  gave  up  the  search, 
and  leaving  the  French  detectives  to  follow  up 


The  Inspector  Interviews  Cyril    171 

any  clue  that  might  turn  up,  I  decided  almost 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment  to  run  over  to  Eng- 
land. I  was  never  more  astonished  than  when 
I  found  her  on  the  train." 

"  Why  had  she  gone  to  Newhaven? "  asked 
Griggs. 

"  I  have  no  idea." 

"  Nor  how  long  she  stayed  there?  " 

"  No.  She  was  rather  excited  and  I  asked  no 
questions." 

"  Had  she  ever  before  visited  Newhaven  to 
your  knowledge?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Then  she  did  not  know  the  late  Lord  Wil- 
mersley?  " 

«  No." 

"  Was  there  any  reason  for  this? "  inquired 
the  detective,  looking  keenly  at  Cyril. 

"  I  was  never  very  friendly  with  my  cousin, 
and  we  sailed  for  South  Africa  immediately 
after  our  marriage.  Neither  of  us  has  been 
home  since  then." 

"  I  must  find  out  where  she  spent  the  night 
of  the  murder,"  murmured  the  Inspector.  He 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  Cyril's  presence. 


172  Who? 

"  If  you  think  her  Ladyship  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  tragedy,  I  assure  you,  you  are  on 
the  wrong  track,"  cried  Cyril,  forgetting  for  a 
moment  his  pose  of  polite  aloofness.  "  She  has 
never  been  at  all  violent.  It  is  chiefly  her 
memory  that  is  affected.  Until  the  last  few 
days  what  she  did  one  minute,  she  forgot  the 
next." 

"  You  think,  therefore,  that  she  would  not  be 
able  to  tell  me  how  she  spent  her  time  in 
Newhaven  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  That  is  most  unfortunate !  By  the  way,  how 
has  she  taken  the  news  of  Lord  Wilmersley's 
murder?  " 

"  She  has  not  been  told  of  it.  She  does  not 
even  know  that  he  is  dead." 

"Ah!" 

"  I  see  I  must  explain  her  case  more  fully,  so 
that  you  may  be  able  to  understand  my  position. 
Her  Ladyship's  mind  became  affected  about  six 
months  ago,  owing  to  causes  into  which  I  need 
not  enter  now.  Since  her  arrival  in  England 
her  improvement  has  been  very  rapid.  Her 
memory  is  growing  stronger,  but  it  is  essential 


The  Inspector  Interviews  Cyril    173 

that  it  should  not  be  taxed  for  the  present.  The 
doctor  assures  me  that  if  she  is  kept  perfectly 
quiet  for  a  month  or  so,  she  will  recover  com- 
pletely. That  is  why  I  want  her  to  remain  in 
absolute  seclusion.  An  incautious  word  might 
send  her  off  her  balance.  She  must  be  protected 
from  people,  and  I  will  protect  her,  I  warn  you 
of  that.  Six  weeks  from  now,  if  all  goes  well, 
you  can  cross-question  her,  if  you  still  think  it 
necessary,  but  at  present  I  not  only  forbid  it, 
but  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  it. 
Of  course,"  continued  Cyril  more  calmly,  "  I 
have  neither  the  power  nor  the  desire  to  hamper 
you  in  the  exercise  of  your  profession ;  so  if  you 
doubt  my  statements  just  ask  Dr.  Stuart-Smith 
whether  he  thinks  her  Ladyship  has  ever  been 
in  a  condition  when  she  might  have  committed 
murder.  He  will  laugh  at  you,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  my  lord ;  all  the  same — 
Griggs  hesitated. 

"  All  the  same  you  would  like  to  know  what 
her  Ladyship  did  on  the  night  of  the  murder. 
Well,  find  out,  if  you  can.  I  assure  you  that 
although  our  motives  differ,  my  curiosity  equals 
T-ours." 


1 74  Who  ? 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord.  I  shall  certainly  do 
my  best  to  solve  the  riddle,"  said  the  Inspector 
as  he  bowed  himself  out. 

Cyril  sank  wearily  into  a  chair.  The  inter- 
view had  been  a  great  strain,  and  yet  he  felt 
that  in  a  way  it  had  been  a  relief  also.  He 
flattered  himself  that  he  had  played  his  cards 
rather  adroitly.  For  now  that  he  had  found 
out  exactly  how  much  the  police  knew,  he  might 
possibly  circumvent  them.  Of  course,  it  was 
merely  a  question  of  days,  perhaps  even  of  hours, 
before  Griggs  would  discover  that  the  girl  was 
not  his  wife;  for  the  Inspector  was  nothing  if 
not  thorough  and  if  he  once  began  searching 
Newhaven  for  evidence  of  her  stay  there,  Cyril 
was  sure  that  it  would  not  take  him  long  to 
establish  her  identity.  Oh!  If  he  only  had 
Griggs  fighting  on  his  side,  instead  of  the  little 
pompous  fool  of  a  Judson !  By  the  way,  what 
could  have  become  of  Judson?  It  was  now  two 
full  days  since  he  had  left  Geralton.  He  cer- 
tainly ought  to  have  reported  himself  long  be- 
fore this.  Well,  it  made  no  difference  one  way 
or  the  other.  He  was  a  negligible  quantity. 
Cyril  had  no  time  to  think  of  him  now.  His 


The  Inspector  Interviews  Cyril    175 

immediate  concern  was  to  find  a  way  by  which 
Priscilla  could  be  surreptitiously  removed  from 
the  nursing  home,  before  the  police  had  time  to 
collect  sufficient  evidence  to  warrant  her  arrest. 
But  how  was  it  to  be  done?  Cyril  sat  for  half 
an  hour  staring  at  the  smouldering  fire  before 
he  was  able  to  hit  on  a  plan  that  seemed  to 
him  at  all  feasible. 

Going  to  the  writing-table,  he  rapidly  covered 
three  sheets  and  thrust  them  into  an  envelope. 

"  Peter,"  he  called. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  a  sleepy  voice. 

"  You  are  to  take  this  letter  at  half-past  seven 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning  to  Mr.  Campbell's 
rooms  and  give  it  into  his  own  hands.  If  he  is 
still  asleep,  wake  him  up.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  Very  wrell.     You  can  go  to  bed  now " 

It  was  lucky,  thought  Cyril,  that  he  had  taken 
Guy  into  his  confidence.  He  was  a  good  chap, 
Guy  was!  How  he  must  hate  the  whole  busi- 
ness! For,  notwithstanding  his  careless  man- 
ner, he  was  au  fond  a  conventional  soul.  It 
was  really  comical  to  think  of  that  impeccable 
person  as  a  receiver  of  stolen  property.  What 


1 76  Who? 

would  he  do  with  the  jewels,  Cyril  wondered. 
Ah,  that  reminded  him  of  the  bag.  He  must 
get  rid  of  it  at  once.  Poking  the  fire  into  a 
blaze,  he  cautiously  locked  the  two  doors  which 
connected  his  rooms  with  the  rest  of  the  house. 
Then,  having  assured  himself  that  the  blinds 
were  carefully  drawn  and  that  no  one  was 
secreted  about  the  premises,  he  knelt  down  be- 
fore the  empty  fireplace  in  his  bedroom  and  felt 
up  the  chimney. 

The  bag  was  no  longer  there ! 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  PERILOUS  VENTURE 

IN  the  grey  dawn  of  the  following  morning 
Cyril  was  already  up  and  dressed.  The  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  detach  two  of  the  labels 
affixed  to  his  box  and  place  them  carefully  in  his 
pocketbook.  That  accomplished,  he  had  to  wait 
with  what  patience  he  could  muster  until  Peter 
returned  with  Campbell's  reply.  Cyril  perused 
it  eagerly.  It  was  evidently  satisfactory,  for  he 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  sat  down  to  break- 
fast. His  eyes,  however,  never  left  the  clock 
and  it  had  hardly  finished  striking  nine  before 
our  hero  was  out  of  the  house.  No  suspicious 
person  was  in  sight,  but  Cyril,  was  determined 
to  take  no  chances.  He  therefore  walked  quickly 
ahead,  then  turned  so  abruptly  that  he  would 
necessarily  have  surprised  any  one  who  was  fol- 
lowing him.  This  he  did  many  times  till  he 


178  Who? 

reached  Piccadilly  Circus,  where,  with  a  last  look 
behind  him,  he  bolted  into  a  shop.  There  he 
asked  for  a  small  travelling  box  suitable  for  a 
lady.  Having  chosen  one,  he  took  his  labels 
out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Have  these  pasted  on  the  box,"  he  ordered. 

The  man's  face  expressed  such  amazement 
that  Cyril  hastened  to  remark  that  the  box  was 
intended  for  a  bride  who  did  not  wish  to  be 
identified  as  such  by  the  newness  of  her  baggage. 
A  comprehending  and  sympathetic  smile  proved 
that  the  explanation  was  satisfactory.  A  few 
minutes  later  Cyril  drove  off  with  his  new  ac- 
quisition. The  next  purchase  was  a  hand- 
somely-fitted lady's  dressing-bag,  which  he  took 
to  Trufitt's  and  filled  with  such  toilet  acces- 
sories as  a  much-befrizzled  young  person  desig- 
nated as  indispensable  to  a  lady's  comfort.  On 
leaving  there  he  stopped  for  a  moment  at  his 
bank. 

Cyril  now  metaphorically  girded  his  loins  and 
summoning  up  all  his  courage,  plunged  into  a 
shop  in  Bond  Street,  where  he  remembered  his 
mother  used  to  get  what  she  vaguely  termed  "  her 
things."  Among  the  maze  of  frou-frous  he  stood 


A  Perilous  Venture  179 

in  helpless  bewilderment,  till  an  obsequious 
floor-walker  came  to  his  rescue.  Cyril  explained 
that  he  had  a  box  outside  which  he  wanted  to 
fill  then  and  there  with  a  complete  outfit  for  a 
young  lady.  To  his  relief  the  man  showed  no 
surprise  at  so  unusual  a  request  and  he  was 
soon  ensconced  in  the  blessed  seclusion  of  a 
fitting  room.  There  the  box  was  hurriedly 
packed  with  a  varied  assortment  of  apparel, 
which  he  devoutly  prayed  would  meet  with  Pris- 
cilla's  approval.  It  was  not  half-past  eleven. 
The  doctor  must  have  left  the  nursing  home  by 
this  time,  thought  Cyril. 

Not  wishing  to  attract  attention  by  driving  up 
to  the  door,  he  told  the  chauffeur  to  stop  when 
they  were  still  at  some  distance  away  from  it. 
There  he  got  out  and  looked  anxiously  about 
him.  To  his  relief  he  recognised  Campbell's 
crimson  pate  hovering  in  the  distance.  So  far, 
thought  Cyril  triumphantly,  there  had  been  no 
hitch  in  his  carefully-laid  plans. 

"  You  are  to  wait  here,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  driver,  "  for  a  lady  and  a  red-haired  gentle- 
man. Now  understand,  no  one  but  a  red-haired 
man  is  to  enter  this  car.  Here  is  a  pound,  and 


i8o  Who? 

if  you  don't  make  a  mess  of  things,  the  other 
gentleman  will  give  you  two  more." 

"  All  right,  sir ;  thank  you,  sir,"  exclaimed  the 
astonished  chauffeur,  greedily  pocketing  the  gold 
piece. 

Cyril  was  certain  that  he  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed, and  there  was  no  sign  that  the  nursing 
home  was  being  watched,  but  that  did  not  re- 
assure him.  Those  curtained  windows  opposite 
might  conceal  a  hundred  prying  eyes. 

When  he  wras  ushered  into  Miss  Prentice's 
room,  he  was  surprised  to  find  her  already  up 
and  dressed.  She  held  a  mirror  in  one  hand 
and  with  the  other  wras  arranging  a  yellow  wig, 
which  encircled  her  face  like  an  aureole.  Cyril 
could  hardly  restrain  a  cry  of  admiration.  He 
had  thought  her  lovely  before,  but  now  her 
beauty  was  absolutely  startling. 

On  catching  sight  of  him  she  dropped  the 
mirror  and  ran  to  him  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Oh !  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come.  How 
do  you  like  my  hair?  "  she  exclaimed  all  in  one 
breath. 

Cyril  heroically  disengaged  himself  from  her 
soft,  clinging  clasp  and  not  daring  to  allow  his 


A  Perilous  Venture  181 

eyes  to  linger  on  her  upturned  face,  he  surveyed 
the  article  in  question  judicially. 

"  For  a  wig  it 's  not  bad.  I  can't  say,  how- 
ever, that  I  like  anything  artificial,"  he  asserted 
mendaciously. 

"  You  prefer  my  own  hair ! "  she  cried,  and 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  began  to  droop  in  a 
way  he  had  already  begun  to  dread.  "  Oh !  what 
shall  I  do?  Nurse  tells  me  it  will  take  ages 
and  ages  for  it  to  grow  again." 

"  There,  there,  my  dear,  it 's  all  right.  You 
look  lovely — "  he  paused  abruptly. 

"  Oh,  do  I?  "  she  cried,  beaming  with  delight. 
"  I  am  so  glad  you  think  so ! " 

"  It  does  n't  matter  what  I  think." 

"  But  it  does,"  she  insisted. 

Cyril  turned  resolutely  away.  This  sort  of 
thing  must  stop,  he  determined. 

"  I  would  like  to  ask  you  one  thing,"  She 
hesitated  a  moment.  "  Are  we  very  poor?  " 

"  No,  why?  " 

"  Then  I  could  afford  to  have  some  pretty 
clothes?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!     I  can't  bear  the  ones  I 


182  Who  ? 

have  on.  I  can't  think  why  I  ever  bought  any- 
thing so  ugly.  I  shall  throw  them  away  as  soon 
as  I  can  get  others.  By  the  way,  where  is  my 
box?  Nurse  tells  me  that  I  arrived  here  with 
nothing  but  a  small  hand-bag." 

"  It  has  gone  astray,"  he  stammered.  "  It 
will  turn  up  soon,  no  doubt,  but  in  the  mean- 
time I  have  bought  a  few  clothes  for  your 
immediate  use." 

"  Oh,  have  you?  Where  are  they?  "  she  cried, 
clapping  her  hands. 

Now  was  the  crucial  moment  He  must  in- 
troduce the  subject  of  her  departure  tactfully. 

"  They  are  outside  in  a  cab." 

She  ran  to  the  window. 

"  But  I  see  no  cab." 

"  It  is  waiting  a  little  farther  down  the 
street." 

She  looked  bewildered. 

"  Farther  down— why?  " 

"  You  trust  me,  don't  you?  "  he  said,  looking 
earnestly  at  her. 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  Then,  believe  me,  it  is  necessary  for  you  to 
leave  this  place  immediately.  I — you — are  be- 


A  Perilous  Venture  183 

ing  pursued  by  some  one  who — who  wishes  to 
separate  us." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  that !  "  she  cried.  "  But  how 
can  any  one  separate  us,  when  God  has  joined 
us  together?  " 

"  It 's  a  long  story  and  I  have  no  time  to 
explain  it  now.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  trust 
me  blindly  for  the  present,  and  do  exactly  what 
I  tell  you  to." 

"  I  will,"  she  murmured  submissively. 

"  Thank  you.  Will  you  please  call  your 
nurse?  " 

She  touched  a  bell. 

The  same  middle-aged  woman  appeared  of 
whomhe  had  caught  a  glimpse  on  his  former  visit. 

"  Good-morning,  nurse.  Your  patient  seems 
pretty  fit  to-day." 

"  Mrs.  Thompkins  is  recovering  very  rapidly." 

"  Can  I  speak  to  the  doctor?  "  asked  Cyril. 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  he  has  just  left." 

"  Too  bad ! "  Cyril  knitted  his  brows  as  if 
the  doctor's  absence  was  an  unexpected  disap- 
pointment. "  Mrs.  Thompkins  must  leave  here 
at  once  and  I  wanted  to  explain  her  precipitate 
departure  to  him." 


1 84  Who? 

"  You  might  telephone,"  suggested  the  nurse. 

"  Yes,  or  better  still,  I  shall  call  at  his  office. 
But  his  absence  places  me  in  a  most  awkward 
predicament.'' 

Cyril  paced  the  room  several  times  as  if  in 
deep  thought,  then  halted  before  the  nurse. 

"  Well,  there  is  no  help  for  it.  As  the  doctor 
is  not  here,  I  must  confide  in  you.  Thomp- 
kins  is  not  our  real  name.  The  doctor  knows 
what  that  is  and  it  was  on  his  advice  that  we 
discarded  it  for  the  time  being.  I  can't  tell  you 
our  reason  for  this  concealment  nor  why  my  wife 
must  not  only  leave  this  house  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, but  must  do  so  unobserved.  Will  you 
help  us?  " 

"  I — I  don't  know,  sir,"  answered  the  nurse 
dubiously,  staring  at  Cyril  in  amazement. 

"  If  you  will  dress  my  wife  in  a  nurse's  uni- 
form and  see  that  she  gets  out  of  here  without 
being  recognised,  I  will  give  you  £100.  Here  is 
the  money." 

The  nurse  gave  a  gasp  and  backed  away  from 
the  notes,  which  Cyril  held  temptingly  toward 
her. 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't,  sir,  really  I  could  n't.     The 


A  Perilous  Venture  185 

doctor  would  never  forgive  me.  Besides  it 
seems  so  queer." 

"  I  promise  you  on  my  word  of  honour  that 
the  doctor  need  never  know  that  you  helped  us." 

But  the  woman  only  shook  her  head. 

"  What  makes  you  hesitate?  "  continued  Cyril. 
"  Do  you  think  I  am  trying  to  bribe  you  to  do 
something  dishonourable?  Ah,  that  is  it,  is  it?  " 
He  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  Look  at  my  wife,  does 
she  look  like  a  criminal,  I  ask  you?  " 

"  She  certainly  does  n't,"  answered  the  nurse, 
glancing  eagerly  from  one  to  the  other  and  then 
longingly  down  at  the  money  in  Cyril's  hand. 

"  Well,  then,  why  not  trust  your  instinct  in 
the  matter?  My  wife  and  I  have  been  placed, 
through  no  fault  of  our  own,  in  a  very  disagree- 
able position.  You  will  know  the  whole  story 
some  day,  but  for  the  present  my  lips  are  sealed. 
International  complications  might  arise  if  the 
truth  leaked  out  prematurely,"  Cyril  felt  that 
the  last  was  a  neat  touch,  for  the  woman's  face 
cleared  and  she  repeated  in  an  awe-struck  voice: 
"  International  complications!  " 

"  Germany !  I  can  say  no  more,"  added  Cyril 
in  a  stage  whisper. 


186  Who  ? 

"  Ah !  The  wretches !  "  cried  the  nurse.  "  One 
never  knows  what  they  will  be  at  next.  Of 
course  I  will  help  you.  I  ought  to  have  known 
at  once  that  it  was  sure  to  be  all  right.  Any 
one  can  see  that  you  are  a  gentleman — a  soldier, 
I  dare  say?  " 

"  Never  mind  who  or  what  I  am.  It  is  better 
that  you  should  be  able  truthfully  to  plead  your 
complete  ignorance.  Now  as  to  the  uniform; 
have  you  one  to  spare?  " 

"Yes,  indeed.  I  will  go  and  get  it  im- 
mediately." 

"  All  this  mystery  frightens  me,"  exclaimed 
Priscilla  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 

"  You  must  be  brave.  Now  listen  attentively 
to  what  I  am  saying.  On  leaving  here — 

"  Oh,  are  n't  you  going  with  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  we  must  not  be  seen  together,  but  I  will 
join  you  later." 

"  You  will  not  leave  me  alone  again?  '? 

"  Not  for  long." 

"  Promise." 

"  I  promise." 

"  Very  well,  now  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do." 

"  On  leaving  this  house  you  are  to  turn  to 


A  Perilous  Venture  187 

your  right  and  walk  down  the  street  till  you  see 
a  taxi  with  a  box  on  it.  A  friend  of  mine,  Guy 
Campbell,  will  be  inside.  You  can  easily  recog- 
nise him;  he  has  red  hair.  Campbell  will  drive 
you  to  a  hotel  where  a  lady  is  waiting  for  you 
and  where  you  are  to  stay  till  I  can  join  you. 
If  there  should  be  any  hitch  in  these  arrange- 
ments, go  to  this  address  and  send  a  telegram  to 
me  at  the  club.  I  have  written  all  this  down," 
he  said,  handing  her  a  folded  paper. 

The  nurse  returned  with  her  arms  full  of 
clothes. 

"  Have  you  a  thick  veil?  "  asked  Cyril. 

"  There  is  a  long  one  attached  to  the  bonnet, 
but  we  never  pull  it  over  our  faces,  and  I  am 
afraid  if  Mrs.  Thompkins  did  so,  it  would  attract 
attention." 

"  Yet  something  must  be  done  to  conceal  her 
face." 

The  nurse  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  sir.  I  used  to  help  in 
private  theatricals  once  upon  a  time." 

"  That  is  splendid !  I  will  go  downstairs  now 
and  wait  till  you  have  got  Mrs.  Thompkins 
ready." 


1 88  Who? 

"  Give  me  a  quarter  of  an  hour  and  you  will 
be  astonished  at  the  result."  She  seemed  to 
have  thrown  her  whole  heart  into  the  business. 

When  Cyril  returned,  he  found  Priscilla  really 
transformed.  Her  yellow  curls  had  been  plas- 
tered down  on  either  side  of  her  forehead.  A 
pair  of  tinted  spectacles  dimmed  the  brilliancy 
of  her  eyes  and  her  dark,  finely-arched  eyebrows 
had  been  rendered  almost  imperceptible  by  a 
skilful  application  of  grease  and  powder.  With 
a  burnt  match  the  nurse  had  drawn  a  few  faint 
lines  in  the  girlish  face,  so  that  she  looked  at 
least  ten  years  older,  and  all  this  artifice  was 
made  to  appear  natural  by  means  of  a  dingy, 
black  net  veil.  A  nurse's  costume  completed  the 
disguise. 

"  You  have  done  wonders,  nurse.  I  can't 
thank  you  enough,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Don't  I  look  a  fright? "  cried  Priscilla  a 
little  ruefully. 

"  No,  you  don't.  That  is  just  where  the  art 
comes  in.  You  are  not  noticeable  one  way  or 
the  other.  It  is  admirable.  And  now  you  had 
better  be  going." 

The  nurse  peered  into  the  hall. 


A  Perilous  Venture  189 

"  There  is  no  one  about  just  now.  I  will  take 
Mrs.  Thompkins  to  the  front  door.  If  we  are 
seen,  it  will  be  supposed  that  she  is  some  friend 
of  mine  who  has  been  calling  on  me.  I  will 
watch  till  I  see  her  safely  in  the  car,"  the  nurse 
assured  him. 

"  Thanks." 

"  By  the  way,  as  I  have  to  pretend  not  to  know 
of  my  patient's  departure,  I  had  better  not  re- 
turn till  you  have  left." 

"  All  right.  Good-bye,  nurse.  I  shall  stay 
here  a  quarter  of  an  hour  so  as  to  give  you  a 
good  start.  Good-bye,  my  dear." 

The  next  fifteen  minutes  seemed  to  Cyril  the 
longest  he  had  ever  spent.  He  did  not  even  dare 
to  follow  Priscilla's  progress  from  the  window. 
Watch  in  hand  he  waited  till  the  time  was  up 
and  then  made  his  way  cautiously  out  of  the 
house  without,  as  luck  would  have  it,  encounter- 
ing any  one. 

The  taxi  was  no  longer  in  sight!  With  a  light 
heart  Cyril  walked  briskly  to  the  doctor's  office. 

"  Well,  Lord  Wilmersley,  what  brings  you 
here?  "  asked  the  doctor,  when  Cyril  was  finally 
ushered  into  the  august  presence. 


190  Who  ? 

"  I  have  called  to  tell  you  that  my  wife  has 
left  the  nursing  home,"  Cyril  blurted  out. 

"  Impossible !  "  cried  the  doctor.  "  She  was 
quite  calm  this  morning.  The  nurse  would — 

"  The  nurse  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  inter- 
rupted Cyril  hastily.  "  It  was  I  who  took  her 
away." 

"  You?  But  why  this  haste?  I  thought  you 
had  decided  to  wait  till  to-morrow." 

"  For  family  reasons,  which  I  need  not  go 
into  now,  I  thought  it  best  that  she  should  be 
removed  at  once." 

"And  may  I  know  where  she  is?"  inquired 
the  doctor,  looking  searchingly  at  Cyril. 

"  I  intend  to  take  her  to  Geralton — in — in  a 
few  days." 

"  Indeed !  "  The  doctor's  upper  lip  lengthened 
perceptibly. 

"  So  you  do  not  wish  me  to  know  where  you 
have  hidden  her." 

"  Hidden  her?  "  Cyril  raised  his  eyebrows 
deprecatingly.  "  That  is  a  strange  expression 
to  use.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  man  has  cer- 
tainly the  right  to  withhold  his  wife's  address 
from  a  comparative  stranger  without  being  ac- 


A  Perilous  Venture  191 

cused  of  hiding  her.  You  should  really  choose 
your  words  more  carefully,  my  dear  sir." 

The  doctor  glared  at  Cyril  for  a  moment,  then 
rising  abruptly  he  paced  the  room  several  times. 

"  It 's  no  use,"  he  said  at  last,  stopping  in 
front  of  Cyril.  "  You  can't  persuade  me  that 
there  is  not  some  mystery  connected  with  Lady 
Wilmersley.  And  I  warn  you  that  I  have  de- 
termined to  find  out  the  truth." 

Cyril's  heart  gave  an  uncomfortable  jump,  but 
he  managed  to  keep  his  face  impassive. 

"A  mystery?  What  an  amusing  idea!  A 
man  of  your  imagination  is  really  wasted  in  the 
medical  profession.  You  should  write,  my  dear 
doctor,  you  really  should.  But,  granting  for 
the  sake  of  argument  that  I  have  something  to 
conceal,  what  right  have  you  to  try  to  force  my 
confidence?  My  wife's  movements  are  surely  no 
concern  of  yours." 

"  One  has  not  only  the  right,  but  it  becomes 
one's  obvious  duty  to  interfere,  when  one  has 
reason  to  believe  that  by  doing  so  one  may  pre- 
vent the  ill-treatment  of  a  helpless  woman." 

"  Do  you  really  think  I  ill-treat  my  wife?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  possible.     And  till  I  am  sure 


192  Who  ? 

that  my  fears  are  unfounded,  I  will  not  consent 
to  Lady  Wilmersley's  remaining  in  your  sole 
care." 

"  Do  you  mind  telling  me  what  basis  you  have 
for  such  a  monstrous  suspicion?  "  asked  Cyril 
very  quietly. 

"  Certainly.  You  bring  me  a  young  lady  who 
has  been  flogged.  You  tell  me  that  she  is  your 
wife,  yet  you  profess  to  know  nothing  of  her 
injuries  and  give  an  explanation  which,  al- 
though not  impossible,  is  at  all  events  highly 
improbable.  This  lady,  who  is  not  only  beauti- 
ful but  charming,  you  neglect  in  the  most  as- 
tonishing manner.  No,  I  am  not  forgetting  that 
you  had  other  pressing  duties  to  attend  to,  but 
even  so,  if  you  had  cared  for  your  wife,  you 
could  not  have  remained  away  from  her  as  you 
did.  It  was  nothing  less  than  heartless  to  leave 
a  poor  young  woman,  in  the  state  she  was  in, 
alone  among  strangers.  Your  letter  only  par- 
tially satisfied  me.  Your  arguments  would  have 
seemed  to  me  perfectly  unconvincing,  if  I  had 
not  been  so  anxious  to  believe  the  best.  As  it 
was,  although  I  tried  to  ignore  it,  a  root  of 
suspicion  still  lingered  in  my  mind.  Then, 


A  Perilous  Venture  193 

when  you  finally  do  turn  up,  instead  of  hurrying 
to  your  wife's  bedside  you  try  in  every  way  to 
avoid  meeting  her  till  at  last  I  have  to  insist 
upon  your  doing  so.  I  tell  you,  that  if  she  had 
not  shown  such  marked  affection  for  you,  I 
should  have  had  no  doubt  of  your  guilt." 

"  Nonsense!     Do  I  look  like  a  wife-beater?  " 

"  No,  but  the  only  murderess  I  ever  knew 
looked  like  one  of  Eaphael's  Madonnas." 

"  Thanks  for  the  implication."  Cyril  bowed 
sarcastically. 

"  The  more  I  observed  Mrs.  Thompkins,"  con- 
tinued the  doctor,  "  the  more  I  became  convinced 
that  a  severe  shock  was  responsible  for  her 
amnesia,  and  that  she  had  never  been  insane  nor 
was  she  at  all  likely  to  become  so." 

"  Even  physicians  are  occasionally  mistaken 
in  their  diagnosis,  I  have  been  told." 

"  You  are  right ;  that  is  why  I  have  given  you 
the  benefit  of  the  doubt,"  replied  the  doctor 
calmly.  "  This  morning,  however,  I  made  a  dis- 
covery, which  practically  proves  that  my  sus- 
picions were  not  unfounded." 

"  And  pray  what  is  this  great  discovery  of 
yours?  "  drawled  Cyril. 


194  Who  ? 

"  I  had  been  worrying  about  this  case  all 
night,  when  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  to  con- 
sult the  peerage.  I  wanted  to  find  out  who 
Lady  Wilmersley's  people  were,  so  that  I  might 
communicate  with  them  if  I  considered  it  neces- 
sary. The  first  thing  I  found  was  that  your  wife 
was  born  in  18 — ,  so  that  now  she  is  in  her 
twenty-eighth  year.  My  patient  is  certainly  not 
more  than  twenty.  How  do  you  account  for 
this  discrepancy  in  their  ages?  " 

Cyril  forced  himself  to  smile  superciliously. 

"  And  is  my  wife's  youthful  appearance  your 
only  reason  for  doubting  her  identity?  " 

The  doctor  seemed  a  little  staggered  by  Cyril's 
nonchalant  manner. 

"  It  is  my  chief  reason,  but  as  I  have  just 
taken  the  trouble  to  explain,  not  my  only  one." 

"  Oh,  really !  And  if  she  is  not  my  wife,  whom 
do  you  suspect  her  of  being?  " 

"  I  have  no  idea." 

"  You  astonish  me."  In  trying  to  conceal  his 
agitation  Cyril  unfortunately  assumed  an  air 
of  frigid  detachment,  which  only  served  to 
exasperate  the  doctor  still  further. 

"  Your  manner  is  insulting,  my  lord." 


A  Perilous  Venture  195 

"  Your  suspicions  are  so  flattering !  "  drawled 
Cyril. 

The  doctor  glared  at  Cyril  for  a  moment  but 
seemed  at  a  loss  for  a  crushing  reply. 

"  You  must  acknowledge  that  appearances  are 
against  you,"  he  said  at  last,  making  a  valiant 
effort  to  control  his  temper.  "  If  you  are  a  man 
of  honour,  you  ought  to  appreciate  that  my  posi- 
tion is  a  very  difficult  one  and  to  be  as  ready  to 
forgive  me,  if  I  have  erred  through  excessive 
zeal,  as  I  shall  be  to  apologise  to  you.  Now 
let  me  ask  you  one  more  question.  Why  were 
you  so  anxious  that  I  should  not  see  the  jewels?  " 

"  Oh,  had  you  not  seen  them?  I  thought,  of 
course,  that  you  had.  I  apologise  for  not  having 
satisfied  your  curiosity." 

There  was  a  short  pause  during  which  the 
doctor  looked  long  and  searchingly  at  Cyril. 

"  I  can't  help  it.  I  feel  that  there  is  some- 
thing fishy  about  this  business.  You  can't 
convince  me  to  the  contrary." 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  I  was  trying  to  do  so." 

The  doctor  almost  danced  with  *age. 

"  Lord  Wilmersley — for  I  suppose  you  are 
Lord  Wilmersley?  " 


196  Who? 

"  Unless  I  am  his  valet,  Peter  Thompkins." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  you,"  cried  the  doctor, 
"  and  you  have  succeeded  to  your  title  under 
very  peculiar  circumstances,  my  lord." 

"  So  you  suspect  me  not  only  of  flogging  my 
wife  but  of  murdering  my  cousin ! "  laughed 
Cyril.  "  My  dear  doctor,  don't  you  realise  that 
if  there  were  the  slightest  grounds  for  your  sus- 
picions, the  police  would  have  put  me  under 
surveillance  long  ago.  Why,  I  can  easily  prove 
that  I  was  in  Paris  at  the  time  of  the  murder." 

"  Oh,  you  are  clever !  I  don't  doubt  that  you 
have  an  impeccable  alibi.  But  if  I  informed  the 
police  that  you  were  passing  off  as  your  wife 
a  girl  several  years  younger  than  Lady  Wilmer- 
sley,  a  girl,  moreover,  who,  you  acknowledged, 
joined  you  at  Newhaven  the  very  morning  after 
the  murder — if  I  told  them  that  this  young  lady 
had  in  her  possession  a  remarkable  number  of 
jewels,  which  she  carried  in  a  cheap,  black  bag 
— what  do  you  think  they  would  say  to  that, 
my  lord?  " 

Cyril  felt  cold  chills  creeping  down  his  back 
and  the  palms  of  his  hands  grew  moist.  Not 
a  flicker  of  an  eyelash,  however,  betrayed  his 


A  Perilous  Venture  197 

inward  tumult.  "  They  would  no  doubt  pay  as 
high  a  tribute  to  your  imagination  as  I  do,"  he 
answered. 

Then,  abandoning  his  careless  pose,  he  sat  up 
in  his  chair. 

"  You  have  been  insulting  me  for  the  last 
half-hour,  and  I  have  borne  it  very  patiently, 
partly  because  your  absurd  suspicions  amused 
me,  and  partly  because  I  realised  that,  although 
you  are  a  fool,  you  are  an  honest  fool." 

"  Sir !  "    The  doctor  turned  purple  in  the  face. 

"  You  can  hardly  resent  being  called  a  fool 
by  a  man  you  have  been  accusing  of  murder 
and  wife-beating.  But  I  don't  want  you  to  go 
to  the  police  with  this  cock-and-bull  story " 

"  Ah !     I  thought  not,"  sneered  the  doctor. 

"  Because,"  continued  Cyril,  ignoring  the  in- 
terruption, "  I  want  to  protect  my  wife  from 
unpleasant  notoriety,  and  also,  although  you 
don't  deserve  it,  to  keep  you  from  becoming  a 
public  laughing  stock.  So  far  you  have  done 
all  the  talking;  now  you  are  to  listen  to  me. 
Sit  down.  You  make  me  nervous  strutting 
about  like  that.  Sit  down,  I  tell  you.  There, 
that 's  better.  Now  let  us  see  what  all  this 


198  Who  ? 

rigmarole  really  amounts  to.  You  began  by 
asking  for  my  wife's  address,  and  when  I  did 
not  immediately  gratify  what  I  considered  your 
impertinent  curiosity,  you  launch  forth  into 
vague  threats  of  exposure.  As  far  as  I  can 
make  out  from  your  disjointed  harangue,  your 
excuse  for  prying  into  my  affairs  is  that  by  do- 
ing so  you  are  protecting  a  helpless  woman  from 
further  ill-treatment.  Very  well.  Granting  that 
you  really  suppose  me  to  be  a  brute,  your  be- 
haviour might  be  perfectly  justified  if — if  you 
believed  that  your  patient  is  my  wife.  But  you 
tell  me  that  you  do  not.  You  think  that  she 
is  either  my  mistress  or  my  accomplice,  or  both. 
Now,  if  she  is  a  criminal  and  an  immoral  woman, 
you  must  admit  that  she  has  shown  extra- 
ordinary cleverness,  inasmuch  as  she  succeeded 
not  only  in  eluding  the  police  but  in  deceiving 
you.  For  the  impression  she  made  on  you  was 
a  very  favourable  one,  was  it  not?  She  seemed 
to  you  unusually  innocent  as  well  as  absolutely 
frank,  did  n't  she?  " 

"  Yes,"  acknowledged  the  doctor. 

"  Now,  if  she  was  able  to  dupe  so  trained  an 
observer  as  yourself,  she  must  be  a  remarkable 


A  Perilous  Venture  199 

woman,  and  cannot  be  the  helpless  creature  you 
picture  her,  and  consequently  would  be  in  no 
danger  of  being  forced  to  submit  to  abuse  from 
any  one." 

"  True,"  murmured  the  doctor. 

"But  I  think  I  can  prove  to  you  that  you 
were  not  mistaken  in  your  first  estimate  of  her 
character.  This  illness  of  hers — was  it  real  or 
could  it  have  been  feigned?  " 

"  It  was  real.     There  is  no  doubt  about  that." 

"  You  saw  her  when  she  was  only  semi- 
conscious, when  she  was  physically  incapable  of 
acting  a  part — did  she  during  that  time,  either 
by  word  or  look,  betray  moral  perversity?" 

"  She  did  not."  The  doctor's  anger  had 
abated  and  he  was  listening  to  Cyril  intently. 

"  How,  then,  can  you  doubt  her?  And  if  she 
is  what  she  seems,  she  is  certainly  neither  my 
mistress  nor  a  thief;  and  if  she  is  not  the  one 
nor  the  other,  she  must  be  my  wife,  and  if  you 
go  to  the  police  with  your  absurd  suspicions,  you 
will  only  succeed  in  making  yourself  ridiculous." 

There  was  a  pause  during  which  the  two  men 
eyed  each  other  keenly. 

"  You  make  a  great  point  of  the  fact  that  my 


200  Who  ? 

wife  had  in  her  possession  a  number  of  valuable 
ornaments,"  continued  Cyril.  "  But  why  should 
she  not?  My  wife  insisted  on  having  all  her 
jewelry  with  her  at  Charleroi,  and  when  she 
escaped  from  there,  they  were  among  the  few 
things  she  took  with  her.  The  excitement  of 
meeting  her  so  unexpectedly  and  her  sudden  ill- 
ness made  me  forget  all  about  them,  otherwise 
I  would  have  taken  them  out  of  the  bag,  which, 
as  you  may  have  noticed,  was  not  even  locked. 
But  the  very  fact  that  I  did  forget  all  about 
them  and  allowed  them  to  pass  through  the 
hands  of  nurses  and  servants,  that  alone  ought 
to  convince  you  that  I  did  not  come  by  them 
dishonestly.  You  had  them  for  days  in  your 
possession;  yet  you  accuse  me  of  having  pre- 
vented you  from  examining  them.  That  is  really 
ridiculous !  Your  whole  case  against  me  is  built 
on  the  wildest  conjectures,  from  which  you  pro- 
ceed to  draw  perfectly  untenable  inferences. 
My  wife  looks  young  for  her  age,  I  grant  you; 
but  even  you  would  not  venture  to  swear  posi- 
tively that  she  is  not  twenty-eight.  You  fancied 
that  I  neglected  her;  consequently  I  am  a  brute. 
She  is  sane  now;  so  you  believe  that  she  has 


A  Perilous  Venture  201 

never  been  otherwise.  You  imagined  that  I  did 
not  wish  you  to  examine  the  contents  of  my 
wife's  bag,  therefore  the  Wilmersley  jewels  must 
have  been  in  it." 

"  What  you  say  sounds  plausible  enough,"  ac- 
knowledged the  doctor,  "  and  it  seems  impossible 
to  associate  you  with  anything  cruel,  mean,  or 
even  underhand,  and  yet — and  yet — I  have  an 
unaccountable  feeling  that  you  are  not  telling 
me  the  truth.  When  I  try  to  analyse  my 
impressions,  I  find  that  I  distrust  not  you  but 
your  story.  You  have,  however,  convinced  me 
that  I  have  no  logical  basis  for  my  suspicions. 
That  being  the  case,  I  shall  do  nothing  for  the 
present.  But,  if  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  I  do 
not  hear  that  Lady  Wilmersley  has  arrived  in 
England,  and  has  taken  her  place  in  the  world, 
then  I  shall  believe  that  my  instinct  has  not 
been  at  fault,  and  shall  do  my  best  to  find  out 
what  has  become  of  her,  even  at  the  risk  of 
creating  a  scandal  or  of  being  laughed  at  for 
my  pains.  But  I  don't  care,  I  shall  feel  that 
I  have  done  my  duty.  In  the  meantime  I  shall 
write  to  Dr.  Monet.  Now  I  have  given  you  a  fair 
warning,  which  you  can  act  on  as  you  see  fit." 


202  Who  ? 

What  an  unerring  scent  the  man  had  for 
falsehood,  thought  Cyril  with  unwilling  admira- 
tion. It  was  really  wonderful  the  way  he  dis- 
regarded probabilities  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
reason.  He  was  a  big  man,  Cyril  grudgingly 
admitted. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  not  believe  me  if  I  tell 
you  that  I  have  no  personal  animosity  toward 
you,  Lord  Wilmersley?  " 

"  I  know  that.  And  some  day  we  '11  laugh 
over  this  episode  together,"  replied  Cyril,  with 
a  heartiness  which  surprised  himself. 

"  Now  that  is  nice  of  you,"  cried  the  doctor. 
"  My  temper  is  rather  hasty,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  and  though  I  don't  remember  all  I  said 
just  now,  I  am  sure,  I  was  unnecessarily 
disagreeable." 

"  Well,  I  called  you  a  fool,"  grinned  Cyril. 

"  So  you  did,  so  you  did,  and  may  I  live 
to  acknowledge  that  I  richly  deserve  the 
appellation." 

And  so  their  interview  terminated  with  un- 
expected friendliness. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CAMPBELL   REMONSTRATES 

IN  his  note  to  Guy,  Cyril  had  asked  the  latter 
to  join  him  at  his  club  as  soon  as  he  had  left 
Priscilla  at  the  hotel,  and  so  when  the  time 
passed  and  his  friend  neither  came  nor  tele- 
phoned, Cyril's  anxiety  knew  no  bounds. 

What  could  have  happened?  thought  Cyril. 
Had  Priscilla  been  arrested?  In  that  case,  how- 
ever, Guy  would  surely  have  communicated  with 
him  at  once,  for  the  police  could  have  had  no 
excuse  for  detaining  the  latter. 

Several  acquaintances  he  had  not  seen  for 
years  greeted  him  cordially,  but  he  met  their 
advances  so  half-heartedly  that  they  soon  left 
him  to  himself,  firmly  convinced  that  the  title 
had  turned  his  head.  Only  one,  an  old  friend 
of  his  father's,  refused  to  be  shaken  off  and  sat 

prosing  away  quite  oblivious  of  his  listener's 

203 


204  Who  ? 

preoccupation  till  the  words  "  your  wife " 
arrested  Cyril's  wandering  attention. 

"  Yes,"  the  Colonel  was  saying,  "  too  bad  that 
you  should  have  this  added  worry  just  now. 
Taken  ill  on  the  train,  too — most  awkward." 

Cyril  was  so  startled  that  he  could  only  repeat 
idiotically :  "  My  wife?  " 

"  Am  I  wrong?  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  evi- 
dently at  a  loss  to  understand  Cyril's  perturba- 
tion. "  Your  wife  is  in  town,  is  n't  she,  and  ill?  " 

What  should  he  answer?  He  dared  not  risk 
a  denial. 

"  Who  told  you  that  she  was  ill?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  was  in  the  morning  papers.  Did  n't  you 
see  it?  " 

"  In  the  papers !  " 

Cyril  realised  at  once  that  he  ought  to  have 
foreseen  that  this  was  bound  to  have  occurred. 
Too  many  people  knew  the  story  for  it  not  to 
have  leaked  out  eventually. 

"  I  have  not  had  time  to  read  them  to-day," 
replied  Cyril  as  soon  as  he  wTas  able  to  collect 
his  wits  a  little.  "  What  did  they  say?  " 

"  Only  that  your  wife  had  been  prostrated  by 
the  shock  of  Wilmersley's  murder,  and  had  to 


Campbell  Remonstrates          205 

be  removed  from  the  train  to  a  nursing  home." 

"  It 's  a  bore  that  it  got  into  the  papers.  My 
wife  is  only  suffering  from  a  slight  indisposition 
and  will  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two,"  Cyril 
hastened  to  assure  him. 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.  I  must  meet  her.  Where 
is  she  staying  at  present?  " 

"  She — she  is  still  at  the  nursing  home — but 
she  is  leaving  there  to-morrow."  Then  fearing 
that  more  questions  were  impending,  Cyril 
seized  the  Colonel's  hand  and  shaking  it  vehe- 
mently exclaimed :  "  I  must  write  some  letters. 
So  glad  to  have  had  this  chat  with  you,"  and 
without  giving  the  Colonel  time  to  answer,  he 
fled  from  the  room. 

Cyril  looked  at  his  watch.  Ten  minutes  to 
three!  Guy  must  have  met  with  an  accident. 
Suddenly  an  alarming  possibility  occurred  to 
him, — what  if  the  police  had  traced  the  jewels 
to  Campbell?  The  bag,  which  had  disappeared, 
must  have  been  taken  by  them.  Griggs,  when 
he  inquired  so  innocently  about  "  Lady  Wilmer- 
sley,"  had  been  fully  cognisant  of  the  girl's  iden- 
tity. What  was  to  be  done  now?  He  could 
not  remain  passive  and  await  developments.  He 


206  Who  ? 

must — was  that — could  that  be  Campbell  saun- 
tering so  leisurely  toward  him?  Indeed  it  was! 

"What  has  happened?"  asked  Cyril  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  dragging  his  friend  into  a 
secluded  corner.  "  Tell  me  at  once." 

"  Nothing,  my  dear  boy.  I  am  afraid  I  kept 
you  waiting  longer  than  I  intended  to.  I  hope 
you  have  not  been  anxious? "  Guy  seemed, 
however,  quite  unconcerned. 

"  Anxious ! "  exclaimed  Cyril  indignantly. 
"  Well,  rather !  How  could  you  have  kept  me 
in  such  suspense?  Why  didn't  you  come  to 
me  at  once  on  leaving  Miss  Prentice?  " 

"  But  I  did.     I  have  just  left  her." 

"  And  she  is  really  all  right?  The  governess, 
Miss  What 's  her  name,  is  with  her?  " 

"  Certainly.  But  I  did  n't  want  to  leave  Mrs. 
Thompkins  alone  with  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
place,  so  I  stayed  and  lunched  with  them." 

Cyril  almost  choked  with  rage.  He  had  had 
no  lunch  at  all.  He  had  been  too  upset  to  think 
of  such  a  thing  and  all  the  time  they — oh!  It 
was  too  abominable!  Campbell  was  a  selfish 
little  brute.  He  would  never  forgive  him, 
thought  Cyril,  scowling  down  at  the  complacent 


Campbell  Remonstrates          207 

offender.  For  lie  was  complacent,  that  was  the 
worst  of  it.  From  the  top  of  his  sleek,  red  head 
to  the  tips  of  his  immaculate  boots,  he  radiated 
a  triumphant  self-satisfaction.  What  was  the 
matter  with  the  man?  wondered  Cyril.  He 
seemed  indefinably  changed.  There  was  a 
jauntiness  about  him — a  light  in  his  eyes  which 
Cyril  did  not  remember  to  have  noticed  before. 
And  what  was  the  meaning  of  those  two  violets 
drooping  so  sentimentally  in  his  buttonhole? 
Cyril  stared  at  the  flowers  as  if  hypnotised. 

"  So  you  liked  Miss  Prentice?  "  he  managed  to 
say,  controlling  himself  with  an  effort. 

"  Rather !  But  I  say,  Cyril,  it 's  all  rot  about 
her  being  that  Prentice  woman." 

"Ah,  you  think  so?" 

"  I  don't  think — I  know.  Why,  she  speaks 
French  like  a  native." 

"How  did  you  find  that  out?"  asked  Cyril, 
forgetting  his  indignation  in  his  surprise  at  this 
new  development. 

"  We  had  a  duffer  of  a  waiter  who  understood 
very  little  English,  so  Mrs.  Thompkins  spoke  to 
him  in  French,  and  such  French!  It  sounded 
like  the  real  thing." 


208  Who? 

Cyril  was  dumfounded.  How  could  a  girl 
brought  up  in  a  small  inland  village,  which  she 
had  left  only  six  months  before,  have  learnt 
French?  And  then  he  remembered  that  the 
doctor  had  told  him  that  she  had  retained  a 
dim  recollection  of  Paris.  Why  had  the  signifi- 
cance of  that  fact  not  struck  him  before? 

"  But  if  she  is  not  Priscilla  Prentice,  who  on 
earth  can  she  be?  She  can't  be  Anita  Wilmer- 
sley !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Of  course  not.  She — she — "  Guy  paused  at 
a  loss  for  a  suggestion. 

"  And  yet,  if  she  is  not  the  sempstress,  she 
must  be  Anita !  " 

"  Why?  " 

"  Because  of  the  jewels  in  her  bag." 

"  I  don't  believe  they  are  the  Wilmersley 
jewels " 

"  There  is  no  doubt  as  to  that.  I  have  the 
list  somewhere  and  you  can  easily  verify  it." 

"  Then  the  bag  is  not  hers.  It  may  have  been 
left  in  the  seat  by  some  one  else." 

"  She  opened  it  in  my  presence." 

"  But  you  proved  to  me  last  night  that  she 
could  not  be  Lady  Wilmersley,"  insisted  Guy. 


7 

L- 


Campbell  Remonstrates 


"  So  I  did.  Anita  has  masses  of  bright,  yellow 
hair.  This  girl's  hair  is  dark." 

"  Well,  then  --  " 

"  There  seems  no  possible  explanation  to  the 
enigma,"  acknowledged  Cyril. 

"  Perhaps  she  wore  a  wig." 

"  She  did  not.  When  she  fainted  I  loosened 
her  veil  and  a  strand  of  her  hair  caught  in  my 
fingers.  It  was  her  own,  I  can  swear  to  that." 

"  She  may  have  dyed  it." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  exclaimed  Cyril. 
"  No,  I  don't  think  she  could  have  had  time  to 
dye  it.  It  takes  hours,  I  believe.  At  nine,  when 
she  was  last  seen,  she  had  made  no  attempt  to 
alter  her  appearance.  Now  Wilmersley  was  — 

"  Hold  on,"  cried  Guy.  "  You  told  me,  did 
you  not,  that  she  had  cut  off  her  hair  because 
it  had  turned  white?  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  Cyril. 

"  Very  well,  then,  that  disposes  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  its  having  been  dyed." 

"  So  it  does.  And  yet,  she  carried  the  Wil- 
mersley jewels,  that  is  a  fact  we  must  not  forget." 

"  Then  she  must  be  a  hitherto  unsuspected 

factor  in  the  case." 

14 


210  Who  ? 

"  Possibly,  and  yet " 

"  Yet  what?  " 

"  I  confess  I  have  no  other  solution  to  offer. 
Oh,  by  the  way,  what  is  the  number  of  her 
room?  " 

Guy  stiffened  perceptibly. 

"  I  don't  think  I  remember  it." 

"  How  annoying !  I  particularly  asked  you 
to  make  a  note  of  it ! " 

"  Oh,  did  you?  "  Guy's  face  was  averted  and 
he  toyed  nervously  with  his  eye-glass. 

"  Of  course  I  did.  You  must  realise — in  fact 
we  discussed  it  together — that  I  must  be  able 
to  see  her." 

"  As  there  is  nothing  that  you  can  do  for  her, 
why  should  you  compromise  her  still  further?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  that  you  ought  not  to  take  further 
advantage  of  her  peculiar  affliction  so  as  to  play 
the  part  of  a  devoted  husband." 

"  This  is  outrageous — "  began  Cyril,  but 
Campbell  cut  him  short. 

"  While  you  fancied  that  she  was  in  need  of 
your  assistance,  I  grant  that  there  was  some 
excuse  for  your  conduct,  but  to  continue  the 


Campbell  Remonstrates          211 

farce    any    longer    would    be    positively    dis- 
honourable." 

Cyril  was  so  surprised  at  Campbell's  belli- 
gerent tone  that  for  a  moment  it  rendered  him 
speechless.  From  a  boy  Guy  had  always  been 
his  humble  admirer.  What  could  have  wrought 
this  sudden  change  in  him?  wondered  Cyril. 
Again  his  eyes  lingered  on  the  violets.  It  was 
not  possible!  And  yet  Cyril  had  often  sus- 
pected that  under  Guy's  obvious  shrewdness 
there  lurked  a  vein  of  romanticism.  And  as 
Cyril  surveyed  his  friend,  his  wrath  slowly 
cooled.  For  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  him 
that  Campbell's  almost  comic  exterior  must  be 
a  real  grief  to  a  man  of  his  temperament.  His 
own  appearance  had  always  seemed  to  Cyril 
such  a  negligible  quantity  that  he  shrank  from 
formulating  even  in  his  own  mind  the  reason 
why  he  felt  that  it  would  be  absurd  to  fear  Guy 
as  a  rival.  A  man  who  is  not  to  be  feared  is 
a  man  to  be  pitied,  and  it  was  this  unacknow- 
ledged pity,  together  with  a  sudden  suspicion 
of  the  possible  tragedy  of  his  friend's  life,  which 
allayed  Cyril's  indignation  and  made  him  finally 
reply  gently: 


212  Who? 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken.  I  am  sure  she 
still  needs  me." 

"  She  does  not.  Miss  Trevor  and  I  are  quite 
able  to  look  after  her." 

"  I  don't  doubt  your  goodwill,  my  dear  Guy, 
but  what  about  her  feelings?  " 

"  Feelings !  I  like  that !  Do  you  fancy  that 
her  feelings  are  concerned?  Do  you  imagine 
that  she  will  be  inconsolable  at  your  absence?  " 

"  You  appear  to  forget  that  she  believes  me 
to  be  her  husband.  Her  pride — her  vanity  will 
be  hurt  if  I  appear  to  neglect  her."  Cyril  still 
spoke  very  quietly. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  her  the  truth  at  once," 
exclaimed  Campbell. 

"And  risk  the  recurrence  of  her  illness?  Re- 
member the  doctor  insisted  that  she  must  on  no 
account  be  agitated." 

"  Why  should  it  agitate  her  to  be  told  that 
you  are  not  her  husband?  I  should  think  it 
would  be  a  jolly  sight  more  agitating  to  believe 
one's  self  bound  to  a  perfect  stranger.  It  is  a 
wonder  it  has  not  driven  the  poor  child  crazy." 

"  Luckily  she  took  the  sad  news  very  calmly," 
Cyril  could  not  refrain  from  remarking.  Really, 


IL 


Campbell  Remonstrates  213 

Guy  was  intolerable  and  he  longed  with  a  primi- 
tive longing  to  punch  his  head.  But  he  had 
to  control  himself.  Guy  was  capable  of  being 
nasty,  if  not  handled  carefully.  So  he  hastily 
continued : 

"  How  can  you  undeceive  her  on  one  point 
without  explaining  the  whole  situation  to  her?  " 

"  I—  ''  began  Guy,  "  I — "     He  paused. 

"  Exactly.  Even  you  have  no  solution  to 
offer.  Even  you  have  to  acknowledge  that  the 
relief  of  knowing  that  she  is  not  my  wife  might 
be  offset  by  learning  not  only  that  we  are  quite 
in  the  dark  as  to  who  she  is,  but  that  at  any 
moment  she  may  be  arrested  on  a  charge  of 
murder." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do !  "  murmured  Guy 
helplessly. 

"  Do  nothing  for  the  present." 

"  Nothing!  "  exclaimed  Guy.  "Nothing!  And 
leave  you  to  insinuate  yourself  into  her — affec- 
tions !  She  must  be  told  the  truth  some  day,  but 
by  that  time  she  may  have  grown  to — to — love 
you."  Guy  gulped  painfully  over  the  word. 
"  You  are  a  married  man.  That  fact  evidently 
seems  *  too  trifling  '  to  be  considered,  but  I  fancy 


214  Who? 

she  will  not  regard  it  as  casually  as  you 
do." 

"  This  is  absurd,"  began  Cyril,  but  Guy  inter- 
cepted him. 

"  You  feel  free  to  do  as  you  please  because 
you  expect  to  get  a  divorce,  but  you  have  not 
got  it  yet,  remember,  and  in  the  meantime  your 
wife  may  bring  a  countersuit,  naming  Miss — 
Mrs.  Thompkins  as  corespondent." 

This  suggestion  staggered  Cyril  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  And  in  that  case,"  continued  Campbell,  "  she 
wrould  probably  think  that  she  ought  to  marry 
you.  After  having  been  dragged  through  the 
filth  of  a  divorce  court,  she  would  imagine  her- 
self too  besmirched  to  give  herself  to  any  other 
man.  And  your  wealth,  your  title,  and  your 
precious  self  may  not  seem  to  her  as  desirable 
as  you  suppose.  She  is  the  sort  of  girl  who 
would  think  them  a  poor  exchange  for  the 
loss  of  her  reputation  and  her  liberty  of  choice. 
When  she  discovers  how  you  have  compromised 
her  by  your  asinine  stupidity,  I  don't  fancy 
that  she  will  take  a  lenient  view  of  your 
conduct." 


Campbell  Remonstrates  215 

"  You  seem  to  forget  that  if  I  had  not  shielded 
her  with  my  name,  she  would  undoubtedly  have 
been  arrested  on  the  train." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  doubt  you  meant  well." 

"  Thanks,"  murmured  Cyril  sarcastically. 

"  All  I  say  is  that  you  must  not  see  her  again 
till  this  mystery  is  cleared  up.  I  did  n't  forget 
about  the  number  of  her  apartment,  but  I 
was  n't  going  to  help  you  to  sneak  in  to  her 
at  all  hours.  Now,  if  you  want  to  see  her,  you 
will  have  to  go  boldly  up  to  the  hotel  and  have 
yourself  properly  announced.  And  I  don't  think 
you  will  care  about  that." 

"  I  promised  to  see  her.  I  shall  not  break  my 
word." 

"  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  your  promises.  You 
shan't  see  her  as  long  as  she  believes  you  to 
be  her  husband." 

Luckily  the  room  was  empty,  for  both  men  had 
risen  to  their  feet. 

"  I  shall  see  her,"  repeated  Cyril. 

"  If  you  do,  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  tell  her 
the  truth  and  risk  the  consequences.  She  shall 
not,  if  I  can  help  it,  be  placed  in  a  position 
where  she  will  be  forced  to  marry  a  man  who 


216  Who? 

has,  after  all,  lived  his  life.  She  ought — "  Guy 
paused  abruptly 

"  She  ought,  in  other  words,  to  be  given  the 
choice  between  my  battered  heart  and  your  virgin 
affections.  Is  that  it?  " 

"  I  mean 

"  Oh,  you  have  made  your  meaning  quite  clear, 
I  assure  you !  "  interrupted  Cyril.  "  But  what 
you  have  been  saying  is  sheer  nonsense.  You 
have  been  calling  me  to  account  for  things  that 
have  not  happened,  and  blaming  me  for  what 
I  have  not  done.  She  is  not  being  dragged 
through  the  divorce  court,  and  I  see  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  she  ever  will  be.  I  am  not  try- 
ing to  force  her  to  marry  me,  and  can  promise 
that  I  shall  never  do  so.  Far  from  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  situation,  I  assure  you  my  con- 
duct has  been  most  circumspect.  Don't  cross  a 
bridge  till  you  get  to  it,  and  don't  accuse  a  man 
of  being  a  cad  just  because — "  Cyril  paused 
abruptly  and  looked  at  Guy,  and  as  he  did  so, 
his  expression  slowly  relaxed  till  he  finally 
smiled  indulgently — "  just  because  a  certain  lady 
is  very  charming,"  he  added. 

But  Guy  was  not  to  be  pacified.     He  would 


Campbell  Remonstrates          217 

neither  retract  nor  modify  his  ultimatum.  He 
knew,  of  course,  that  Cyril  would  not  dare  to 
write  the  girl;  for  if  the  letter  miscarried  or 
was  found  by  the  police,  it  might  be  fatal  to  both. 

But  while  they  were  still  heatedly  debating 
the  question,  a  way  suddenly  occurred  to  Cyril 
by  which  he  could  communicate  with  he?  with 
absolute  safety.  So  he  waited  placidly  for 
Guy  to  take  himself  off,  which  he  eventually  did, 
visibly  elated  at  having,  as  he  thought,  effectually 
put  a  stop  to  further  intercourse  between  the 
two.  He  had  hardly  left  the  club,  however,  be- 
fore Cyril  was  talking  to  Priscilla  over  the  tele- 
phone! He  explained  to  her  as  best  he  could 
that  he  had  been  called  out  of  town  for  a  few 
days,  and  begged  her  on  no  account  to  leave  her 
apartments  till  he  returned.  He  also  tried  to 
impress  on  her  that  she  had  better  talk  about 
him  as  little  as  possible  and  above  all  things 
not  to  mention  either  to  Campbell  or  Miss 
Trevor  that  she  had  heard  from  him  and  ex- 
pected to  see  him  before  long. 

It  cost  Cyril  a  tremendous  effort  to  restrict 
himself  to  necessary  instructions  and  polite  in- 
quiries, especially  as  she  kept  begging  him  to 


218  Who? 

come  back  to  her  as  soon  as  possible.  Finally 
lie  could  bear  the  strain  no  longer,  and  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence  he  resolutely  hung  up  the 
receiver. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHAT  IS  THE  TRUTH? 

WHEN  Cyril  arrived  in  Newhaven  that  even- 
ing, he  was  unpleasantly  surprised  to  find,  as 
he  got  out  of  the  train,  that  Judson  had  been 
travelling  in  the  adjoining  compartment.  Had 
the  man  been  following  him,  or  was  it  simply 
chance  that  had  brought  them  together,  he  won- 
dered. Oh!  If  he  could  only  get  rid  of  the 
fellow ! 

"  You  have  come  to  see  me,  I  suppose,"  he 
remarked  ungraciously. 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  Very  well,  then,  get  into  the  car." 

Cyril  was  in  no  mood  to  talk,  so  the  first  part 
of  the  way  was  accomplished  in  silence,  but  at 
last,  thinking  that  he  might  as  well  hear  what 
the  man  had  to  say,  he  turned  to  him  and  asked : 

"  Have  you  found  out  anything  of  any  im- 
portance? " 

219 


220  Who  ? 

"  I  fancy  so,  my  lord." 

"  Keally !     Well,  what  is  it?  " 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  my  lord,  I  should 
suggest  that  we  wait  till  we  get  to  the  castle," 
replied  Judson,  casting  a  meaning  look  at  the 
chauffeur's  back. 

"  Just  as  you  please."  His  contempt  for  Jud- 
son was  so  great  that  Cyril  was  not  very  curious 
to  hear  his  revelations. 

"  Now,"  said  Cyril,  as  he  flung  himself  into  a 
low  chair  before  the  library  fire,  "  what  have 
you  to  tell  me?  " 

Before  answering  Judson  peered  cautiously 
around;  then,  drawing  forward  a  straight-backed 
chair,  he  seated  himself  close  to  Cyril  and  folded 
his  hands  in  his  lap. 

"  In  dealing  with  my  clients,"  he  began,  "  I 
make  it  a  rule  instead  of  simply  stating  the 
results  of  my  work  to  show  them  how  I  arrive 
at  my  conclusions.  Having  submitted  to  them 
all  the  facts  I  have  collected,  they  are  able  to 
judge  for  themselves  as  to  the  value  of  the  evi- 
dence on  which  my  deductions  are  based.  And 
so,  my  lord,  I  should  like  to  go  over  the  whole 
case  with  you  from  the  very  beginning." 


What  Is  the  Truth?  221 

Cyril  gave  a  grunt  which  Judson  evidently 
construed  into  an  assent,  for  he  continued  even 
more  glibly: 

"  The  first  point  I  considered  was,  whether  her 
Ladyship  had  premeditated  her  escape.  But  in 
order  to  determine  this,  we  must  first  decide 
whom  she  could  have  got  to  help  her  to  accom- 
plish such  a  purpose.  The  most  careful  inquiry 
has  failed  to  reveal  any  one  who  would  have 
been  both  willing  and  able  to  do  so,  except  the 
sempstress,  and  as  both  mistress  and  maid 
disappeared  almost  simultaneously,  one's  first 
impulse  is  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Prentice 
was  her  Ladyship's  accomplice.  This  is  what 
every  one,  Scotland  Yard  included,  believes." 

"  And  you  do  not?  " 

"  Before  either  accepting  or  rejecting  this 
theory,  I  decided  to  visit  this  girl's  home.  I 
did  not  feel  clear  in  my  mind  about  her.  All 
the  servants  were  impressed  by  her  manner  and 
personality,  the  butler  especially  so,  and  he  more 
than  hinted  that  there  must  be  some  mystery 
attached  to  her.  One  of  the  things  that  stimu- 
lated their  curiosity  was  that  she  kept  up  a 
daily  correspondence  with  some  one  in  Plum- 


222  Who  ? 

tree.  On  reaching  the  village  I  called  at  once 
on  the  vicar.  He  is  an  elderly  man,  much 
respected  and  beloved  by  his  parishioners.  I 
found  him  in  a  state  of  great  excitement,  having 
just  read  in  the  paper  of  Prentice's  disappear- 
ance. I  had  no  difficulty  in  inducing  him  to 
tell  me  the  main  facts  of  her  history;  the  rest 
I  picked  up  from  the  village  gossips.  The  girl 
is  a  foundling.  And  till  she  came  to  Geralton 
she  was  an  inmate  of  the  vicar's  household.  He 
told  me  that  he  would  have  adopted  her,  but 
knowing  that  he  had  not  sufficient  means  to 
provide  for  her  future,  he  wisely  refrained  from 
educating  her  above  her  station.  Nevertheless, 
I  gathered  that  the  privilege  of  his  frequent 
companionship  had  refined  her  speech  and  man- 
ners, and  I  am  told  that  she  now  could  pass 
muster  in  any  drawing-room." 

"Did  she  ever  learn  French?"  interrupted 
Cyril,  eagerly. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,  and  I  do  not  believe  the 
vicar  would  have  taught  her  an  accomplishment 
so  useless  to  one  in  her  position." 

"  Did  she  ever  go  to  France?  " 

"  Never.     But,  why  do  you  ask?  " 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  223 

"  No  matter — I — but  go  on  with  your  story." 
"  Owing  partly  to  the  mystery  which  sur- 
rounded her  birth  and  gave  rise  to  all  sorts  of 
rumours,  and  partly  to  her  own  personality,  the 
gentry  of  the  neighbourhood  made  quite  a  pet 
of  her.  As  a  child  she  was  asked  occasionally 
to  play  with  the  Squire's  crippled  daughter  and 
later  she  used  to  go  to  the  Hall  three  times  a 
week  to  read  aloud  to  her.  So,  notwithstanding 
the  vicar's  good  intentions,  she  grew  up  to  be 
neither  *  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring.' 
Now  all  went  well  till  about  a  year  ago, 
when  the  Squire's  eldest  son  returned  home  and 
fell  in  love  with  her.  His  people  naturally  op- 
posed the  match  and,  as  he  is  entirely  dependent 
upon  them,  there  seemed  no  possibility  of  his 
marrying  her.  The  girl  appeared  broken- 
hearted, and  when  she  came  to  the  castle,  every 
one,  the  vicar  included,  thought  the  affair  at  an 
end.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  such  was  not  the 
case,  for  as  no  one  at  the  vicarage  wrote  to  her 
daily,  the  letters  she  received  must  have  come 
from  her  young  man.  Furthermore,  she  told  the 
servants  that  she  had  a  cousin  in  Newhaven,  but 
as  she  has  not  a  relative  in  the  world,  this  is 


224  Who  ? 

obviously  a  falsehood.  Who,  then,  is  this  mys- 
terious person  she  visited?  It  seems  to  me 
almost  certain  that  it  was  her  lover." 

"  Possibly,"  agreed  Cyril.  "  But  I  don't  quite 
see  what  you  are  trying  to  prove  by  all  this.  If 
Prentice  did  not  help  her  Ladyship  to  escape, 
who  did?  " 

"  I  have  not  said  that  Prentice  is  not  a  factor 
in  the  case,  only  I  believe  her  part  to  have  been 
a  very  subordinate  one.  Of  one  thing,  however, 
I  am  sure,  and  that  is  that  she  did  not  return 
to  Geralton  on  the  night  of  the  murder." 

"  How  can  you  be  sure  of  that?  "  demanded 
Cyril. 

"  Because  she  asked  for  permission  early  in 
the  morning  to  spend  the  night  in  Newhaven  and 
had  already  left  the  castle  before  the  doctors' 
visit  terminated.  Now,  although  I  think  it 
probable  that  her  Ladyship  may  for  a  long  time 
have  entertained  the  idea  of  leaving  Geralton, 
yet  I  believe  that  it  was  the  doctors'  visit  that 
gave  the  necessary  impetus  to  convert  her  idle 
longing  into  definite  action.  Therefore  I  con- 
clude that  Prentice  could  have  had  no  knowledge 
of  her  mistress's  sudden  flight." 


What  Is  the  Truth?  225 

"  But  how  can  you  know  that  the  whole  thing 
had  not  been  carefully  premeditated?  " 

"  Because  her  Ladyship  showed  such  agitation 
and  distress  at  hearing  the  doctors'  verdict.  If 
her  plans  for  leaving  the  castle  had  been  com- 
pleted, she  would  have  accepted  the  situation 
more  calmly." 

"  Has  nothing  been  heard  of  these  doctors?  " 

"  Nothing.  We  have  been  able  to  trace  them 
only  as  far  as  London.  They  could  not  have 
been  reputable  physicians  or  they  would  have 
answered  our  advertisements,  and  so  I  am  in- 
clined to  believe  that  you  were  right  and  that  it 
was  his  Lordship  who  spread  the  rumours  of  her 
Ladyship's  insanity." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Cyril. 

"  Very  good.  Assuming,  therefore,  that  Lady 
Wilmersley  is  sane,  we  will  proceed  to  draw 
logical  inferences  from  her  actions."  Judson 
paused  a  moment  before  continuing:  "Now  I 
am  convinced  that  the  only  connection  Prentice 
had  with  the  affair  was  to  procure  some  clothes 
for  her  mistress,  and  these  had  probably  been 
sometime  in  the  latter's  possession." 

"  H'm !  "    ejaculated    Cyril    sceptically.      "  I 


226  Who? 

think  it  would  have  been  pretty  difficult  to  have 
concealed  anything  from  that  maid  of  hers." 

"  Difficult,  I  grant  you,  but  not  impossible,  my 
lord." 

"  But  if  Prentice  had  no  knowledge  of  the 
tragedy,  why  did  she  not  return  to  the  castle? 
What  has  become  of  her?  Why  have  the  police 
been  unable  to  find  her?  " 

"  I  believe  that  she  joined  her  lover  and  that 
they  are  together  on  the  continent,  for  in  Plum- 
tree  I  was  told  that  the  young  man  had  recently 
gone  to  Paris.  As  I  am  sure  that  she  knows 
nothing  of  any  importance,  I  thought  it  useless 
to  waste  time  and  money  trying  to  discover  their 
exact  locality.  That  the  police  have  not  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  her,  I  ascribe  to  the  fact  that 
they  are  looking  for  a  young  woman  who  left 
Newhaven  after  and  not  before  the  murder." 

"  You  think  she  left  before?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  two  reasons  for  this  supposi- 
tion. First,  I  can  discover  no  place  where  he  or 
she,  either  separately  or  together,  could  have 
spent  the  night.  Secondly,  if  they  had  left  New- 
haven  the  following  morning  or  in  fact  at  any 
time  after  the  murder,  they  would  certainly  have 


What  Is  the  Truth?  227 

been  apprehended,  as  all  the  boats  and  trains 
were  most  carefully  watched." 

"  But  no  one  knew  of  her  disappearance  till 
twenty-four  hours  later,  and  during  that  interval 
she  could  easily  have  got  away  unobserved." 

"  No,  my  lord,  there  you  are  mistaken.  From 
the  moment  that  the  police  were  notified  that  a 
crime  had  been  committed,  every  one,  especially 
every  woman,  who  left  Newhaven  was  most 
attentively  scrutinised." 

"  You  are  certain  that  Prentice  could  not 
have  left  Newhaven  unnoticed,  yet  her  Lady- 
ship managed  to  do  so!  How  do  you  account 
for  that?  " 

The  detective  paused  a  moment  and  looked 
fixedly  at  Cyril. 

"  Her  Ladyship  had  a  very  powerful  protector, 
my  lord,"  he  finally  said. 

"A  protector!     Who?" 

Again  the  detective  did  not  reply  immediately. 

"  It 's  no  use  beating  about  the  bush,  my  lord, 
I  know  everything." 

"  Well  then,  out  with  it,"  cried  Cyril  impa- 
tiently. "  What  are  you  hesitating  for?  Have 
you  found  her  Ladyship  or  have  you  not?  " 


228  Who  ? 

"  I  have,  my  lord." 

"  You  have !  Then  why  on  earth  did  n't 
you  tell  me  at  once?  Where  is  she?"  cried 
Cyril. 

There  was  a  pause  during  which  the  detective 
regarded  Cyril  through  narrowed  lids. 

"  She  is  at  present  at  the  nursing  home  of  Dr. 
Stuart-Smith,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Cyril,  sinking  back 
into  his  chair  and  negligently  lighting  an- 
other cigarette.  "  I  thought  you  had  discov- 
ered something.  You  mean  my  wife,  Lady 
Wilmersley : 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you,  my  lord.  I 
don't  make  mistakes  like  that.  I  repeat,  the 
Dowager  Lady  Wilmersley  is  under  the  care  of 
Dr.  Smith." 

The  man's  tone  was  so  assured  that  Cyril  was 
staggered  for  a  moment. 

"  It  is  n't  true,"  he  asserted  angrily. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  really  do  not  know 
who  the  lady  is  that  you  rescued  that  day  from 
the  police? "  exclaimed  the  detective,  startled 
out  of  his  habitual  impassivity. 

"  I  confess  that  I  do  not.     But  of  one  thing 


What  Is  the  Truth?  229 

I  am  sure,  and  that  is  that  she  is  not  the  person 
you  suppose." 

"  Well,  my  lord,  I  must  say  that  you  have 
surprised  me.  Yet  I  ought  to  have  guessed  it. 
It  was  stupid  of  me,  very." 

"  I  tell  you  that  you  are  on  the  wrong  track. 
Lady  Wilmersley  has  golden  hair.  Well,  this 
lady's  hair  is  black." 

"  She  has  dyed  it." 

"  She  has  not,  for  it  has  turned  completely 
white,"  exclaimed  Cyril,  triumphantly. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  so?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Her  Ladyship  is  cleverer  than  I  supposed," 
remarked  the  detective  with  a  pitying  smile. 

"  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  you  seem  to  think," 
retorted  Cyril.  "  And  I  can  assure  you  that  the 
lady  in  question  is  incapable  of  deception." 

"  All  I  can  say  is,  my  lord,  that  I  am  absolutely 
sure  of  her  Ladyship's  identity  and  that  you 
yourself  gave  me  the  clue  to  her  whereabouts." 

"  I— how?  " 

"  I  of  course  noticed  that  when  you  heard  her 
Ladyship  had  golden  hair,  you  were  not  only  ex- 
tremely surprised  but  also  very  much  relieved. 


230  Who  ? 

I  at  once  asked  myself  why  such  an  apparently 
trivial  matter  should  have  so  great  and  so 
peculiar  an  effect  on  you.  As  you  had  never 
seen  her  Ladyship,  I  argued  that  you  must  that 
very  day  have  met  some  one  you  had  reason  to 
suppose  to  be  Lady  Wilmersley  and  that  this 
person  had  dark  hair.  By  following  your  move- 
ments from  the  time  you  landed  I  found  that 
the  only  woman  with  whom  you  had  come  in 
contact  was  a  young  lady  who  had  joined  you 
in  Xewhaven,  and  that  she  answered  to  the  de- 
scription of  Lady  Wilmersley  in  every  particular, 
with  the  sole  exception  that  she  had  dark  hair.' 
I  was,  however,  told  that  you  had  said  that  she 
was  your  wife  and  had  produced  a  passport  to 
prove  it.  Now  I  had  heard  from  your  valet  that 
her  Ladyship  was  still  in  France,  so  you  can 
hardly  blame  me  for  doubting  the  correctnew 
of  your  statement.  But  in  order  to  make  assur- 
ance doubly  sure,  I  sent  one  of  my  men  to  the 
continent.  He  reported  that  her  Ladyship  had 
for  some  months  been  a  patient  at  Charleroi, 
but  had  recently  escaped  from  there,  and  that 
you  are  still  employing  detectives  to  find 
her." 


What  Is  the  Truth?  231 

"  I  did  not  engage  you  to  pry  into  my  affairs," 
exclaimed  Cyril  savagely. 

"  Nor  have  I  exceeded  my  duty  as  I  conceive 
it,"  retorted  the  detective.  "  As  your  Lordship 
refused  to  honour  me  with  your  confidence,  T 
had  to  find  out  the  facts  by  other  means;  and 
you  must  surely  realise  that  without  facts  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  construct  a  theory,  and  till 
I  can  do  that  my  work  is  practically  valueless." 

"  But  my  wife  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.'' 

"  Quite  so,  my  lord,  but  a  lady  who  claimed  to 
be  her  Ladyship  is  intimately  concerned  with  it." 

"  I  repeat  that  is  all  nonsense." 

"  If  your  Lordship  will  listen  to  me,  I  think  I 
can  prove  to  you  that  as  far  as  the  lady's  iden- 
tity is  concerned,  I  have  made  no  mistake.  But 
to  do  this  convincingly,  I  must  reconstruct  the 
tragedy  as  I  conceive  that  it  happened." 

"  Go  ahead ;  I  don't  mind  hearing  your  theory." 

"  First,  I  must  ask  you  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  I  am  right  in  believing  that  Prentice  was 
ignorant  of  her  Ladyship's  flight." 

"  I  will  admit  that  much,"  agreed  Cyril. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord.  Now  let  us  try  and 
imagine  exactly  what  was  her  Ladyship's  posi- 


232  Who  ? 

tion  on  the  night  of  the  murder.  Her  first  care 
must  have  been  to  devise  some  means  of  eluding 
his  Lordship's  vigilance.  This  was  a  difficult 
problem,  for  Mustapha  tells  me  that  his  Lordship 
was  not  only  a  very  light  sleeper  but  that  he 
suffered  from  chronic  insomnia.  You  may  or  may 
not  know  that  his  Lordship  had  long  been  ad- 
dicted to  the  opium  habit  and  would  sometimes 
for  days  together  lie  in  a  stupor.  Large  quan- 
tities of  the  drug  were  found  in  his  room  and 
that  explains  how  her  Ladyship  managed  to  get 
hold  of  the  opium  with  which  she  doctored  his 
Lordship's  coffee." 

"  This  is,  however,  mere  supposition  on  your 
part,"  objected  Cyril. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  lord.  I  had  the  sediment  of 
the  two  cups  analysed  and  the  chemist  found 
that  one  of  them  contained  a  small  quantity  of 
opium.  Her  Ladyship,  being  practically  ig- 
norant as  to  the  exact  nature  of  the  drug  and 
of  the  effect  it  would  have  on  a  man  who  was 
saturated  with  it,  gave  his  Lordship  too  small 
a  dose.  Nevertheless,  he  became  immediately 
stupefied." 

"  Now,  how  on  earth  can  you  know  that?  " 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  233 

"  Very  easily,  my  lord.  If  his  Lordship  had 
not  been  rendered  at  once  unconscious,  he  would 
—  knowing  that  an  attempt  had  been  made  to 
drug  him — have  sounded  the  alarm  and  deputed 
Mustapha  to  guard  her  Ladyship,  which  was 
what  he  always  did  when  he  knew  that  he  was 
not  equal  to  the  task." 

"  Well,  that  sounds  plausible,  at  all  events," 
acknowledged  Cyril. 

"  As  soon  as  her  Ladyship  knew  that  she  was 
no  longer  watched,"  continued  the  detective, 
"  she  at  once  set  to  work  to  disguise  herself. 
As  we  know,  she  had  provided  herself  with 
clothes,  but  I  fancy  her  hair,  her  most  noticeable 
feature,  must  have  caused  her  some  anxious 
moments." 

"  She  may  have  worn  a  wig,"  suggested  Cyril, 
hoping  that  Judson  would  accept  this  explana- 
tion of  the  difficulty,  in  whicli  case  he  would  be 
able  triumphantly  to  demolish  the  latter's  theory 
of  the  girl's  identity,  by  stating  that  he  could 
positively  swear  that  her  hair  was  her  own. 

"  No,  my  lord.  After  carefully  investigating 
the  matter  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  did  not.  And  my  reasons  are,  first,  that  no 


234  Who  ? 

hairdresser  in  Newhaven  has  lately  sold  a  dark 
wig  to  any  one,  and,  secondly,  that  no  parcel 
arrived,  addressed  either  to  her  Ladyship  or  to 
Prentice,  which  could  have  contained  such  an 
article.  On  the  other  hand,  as  his  Lordship  had 
for  years  dyed  his  hair  and  beard,  her  Ladyship 
had  only  to  go  into  his  dressing-room  to  procure 
a  very  simple  means  of  transforming  herself." 

"  But  does  n't  it  take  ages  to  dye  hair?  "  asked 
Cyril. 

"  If  it  is  done  properly,  yes ;  but  the  sort  of 
stain  his  Lordship  used  can  be  very  quickly 
applied.  I  do  not  believe  it  took  her  Ladyship 
more  than  half  an  hour  to  dye  enough  of  her 
hair  to  escape  notice,  but  in  all  probability  she 
had  no  time  to  do  it  very  thoroughly  and  that 
which  escaped  may  have  turned  white.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  that." 

This  was  a  possibility  which  had  not  occurred 
to  Cyril ;  but  still  he  refused  to  be  convinced. 

"  Very  well,  rny  lord.  Let  me  continue  my 
story:  Before  her  Ladyship  had  completed  her 
preparations,  his  Lordship  awoke  from  his 
stupor." 

"What  makes  you  think  that?" 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  235 

"  Because,  if  his  Lordship  had  not  tried  to 
prevent  her  escape,  she  would  have  had  no  rea- 
son for  killing  him.  Probably  they  had  a 
struggle,  her  hand  fell  on  the  pistol,  and  the 
deed  was  done ' 

"  But  what  about  the  ruined  picture?  " 

"  Her  Ladyship,  knowing  that  there  was  no 
other  portrait  of  her  in  existence,  destroyed  it 
in  order  to  make  it  difficult  for  the  police  to 
follow  her.'' 

"  H'm,7'  grunted  Cyril.  "  You  make  her  Lady- 
ship out  a  nice,  cold-blooded,  calculating  sort  of 
person.  If  you  think  she  at  all  resembles  the 
young  lady  at  the  nursing  home,  I  can  only  tell 
you  that  you  are  vastly  mistaken." 

"  As  I  have  not  the  honour  of  knowing  the 
lady  in  question,  I  cannot  form  any  opinion  as 
to  that.  But  let  us  continue :  I  wish  to  confess 
at  once  that  I  am  not  at  all  sure  how  her  Lady- 
ship reached  Newhaven.  That  waiting  auto- 
mobile complicates  matters.  On  the  face  of  it, 
it  seems  as  if  it  must  have  some  connection  with 
the  case.  I  have  also  a  feeling  that  it  has,  and 
yet  for  the  life  of  me  I  cannot  discover  the  con- 
necting link.  Whatever  the  younger  man  was, 


236  Who? 

the  elder  was  undoubtedly  a  Frenchman,  and  I 
have  ascertained  that  with  the  exception  of  an 
old  French  governess,  who  lived  with  her  Lady- 
ship before  her  marriage,  and  of  Mustapha  and 
Valdriguez,  Lady  Wilmersley  knew  no  foreigner 
whatever.  Besides,  these  two  men  seem  to  have 
been  motoring  about  the  country  almost  at  ran- 
dom, and  it  may  have  been  the  merest  accident 
which  brought  them  to  the  foot  of  the  long  lane 
just  at  the  time  when  her  Ladyship  was  in  all 
probability  leaving  the  castle.  Whether  they  gave 
her  a  lift  as  far  as  Newhaven,  I  do  not  know. 
How  her  Ladyship  reached  the  town  constitutes 
the  only  serious — I  will  not  call  it  break — but 
hiatus — in  my  theory.  From  half-past  six  the 
next  morning,  however,  her  movements  can  be 
easily  followed.  A  young  lady,  dressed  as  you 
know,  approached  the  station  writh  obvious  nerv- 
ousness. Three  things  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  officials :  first,  the  discrepancy  between  the 
simplicity,  I  might  almost  say  the  poverty,  of 
her  clothes,  and  the  fact  that  she  purchased  a 
first-class  ticket;  secondly,  that  she  did  not  wish 
her  features  to  be  seen ;  and  thirdly,  that  she  had 
no  luggage  except  a  small  hand-bag.  How  her 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  237 

Ladyship  managed  to  elude  the  police,  and  what 
has  subsequently  occurred  to  her,  I  do  not  need 
to  tell  your  Lordship." 

"  You  have  n't  in  the  least  convinced  me  that 
the  young  lady  is  her  Ladyship,  not  in  the  least. 
You  yourself  admit  that  there  is  a  hiatus  in 
your  story;  well,  that  hiatus  is  to  me  a  gulf 
which  you  have  failed  to  bridge.  Because  one 
lady  disappears  from  Geralton  and  another  ap- 
pears the  next  morning  in  Newhaven,  you  insist 
the  two  are  identical.  But  you  have  not  offered 
me  one  iota  of  proof  that  such  is  the  case." 

"  What  more  proof  do  you  want?  She  is  the 
only  person  who  left  Newhaven  by  train  or  boat 
who  even  vaguely  resembled  her  Ladyship." 

"  That  means  nothing.  Her  Ladyship  may 
not  have  come  to  Newhaven  at  all,  but  have  been 
driven  to  some  hiding-place  in  the  Frenchman's 
car." 

"  I  think  that  quite  impossible,  for  every  house, 
every  cottage,  every  stable  and  barn  even,  for 
twenty-five  miles  around,  has  been  carefully 
searched.  Besides,  this  would  mean  that  the 
murder  had  been  premeditated  and  the  coming  of 
the  motor  had  been  pre-arranged ;  and  lastly,  as 


238  Who? 

the  gardener's  wife  testifies  that  the  car  left 
Geralton  certainly  no  earlier  than  eleven-thirty, 
and  as  the  two  men  reached  the  hotel  before 
twelve,  this  precludes  the  possibility  that  they 
could  have  done  more  than  drive  straight  back 
to  the  Inn,  as  the  motor  is  by  no  means  a  fast 
one." 

"  But,  my  man,  they  may  have  secreted  her 
Ladyship  in  the  town  itself  and  have  taken  her 
with  them  to  France  the  next  morning." 

"  Impossible.  In  the  first  place,  they  left 
alone,  the  porter  saw  them  off ;  and  secondly,  no 
one  except  the  two  Frenchmen  purchased  a 
ticket  for  the  continent  either  in  the  NewThaven 
office  or  on  the  boat." 

Cyril  rose  from  his  seat.  Judson's  logic  was 
horribly  convincing;  no  smallest  detail  had  ap- 
parently escaped  him.  As  the  man  piled  argu- 
ment on  argument,  he  had  found  himself  slowly 
and  grudgingly  accepting  his  conclusions. 

"  As  you  are  in  my  employ,  I  take  it  for 
granted  that  you  will  not  inform  the  police 
or  the  press  of  your — suspicions,"  he  said  at 
last. 

"  Certainly  not,  my  lord.     On  the  other  hand, 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  239 

I  must  ask  you  to  allow  me  to  withdraw  from 
the  case." 

"But  why?"  exclaimed  Cyril. 

"  Because  my  duty  to  you,  as  my  client,  pre- 
vents me  from  taking  any  further  steps  in  this 
matter." 

"  I  don't  understand  you !  " 

"  I  gather  that  you  are  less  anxious  to  clear 
up  the  mystery  than  to  protect  her  Ladyship. 
Am  I  not  right?  " 

"  Yes,"  acknowledged  Cyril. 

"  You  would  even  wish  me  to  assist  you  in 
providing  a  safe  retreat  for  her." 

"  Exactly." 

"  Well,  my  lord,  that  is  just  what  I  cannot  do. 
It  is  my  duty,  as  I  conceive  it,  to  hold  my  tongue, 
but  I  should  not  feel  justified  in  aiding  her  Lady- 
ship to  escape  the  consequences  of  her — her — 
action.  In  order  to  be  faithful  to  my  engage- 
ment to  you,  I  am  willing  to  let  the  public  believe 
that  I  have  made  a  failure  of  the  case.  I  shall 
not  even  allow  my  imagination  to  dwell  on  your 
future  movements,  but  more  than  that  I  cannot 
do." 

"  You  take  the  position  that  her  Ladyship  is 


240  Who  ? 

an  ordinary  criminal,  but  you  must  realise  that 
that  is  absurd.  Even  granting  that  she  is  re- 
sponsible for  her  husband's  death — of  which,  by 
the  way,  we  have  no  absolute  proof — are  you  not 
able  to  make  allowances  for  a  poor  woman 
goaded  to  desperation  by  an  opium  fiend?  " 

"  I  do  not  constitute  myself  her  Ladyship's 
judge,  but  I  don't  think  your  Lordship  quite 
realises  all  that  you  are  asking  of  me.  Even  if 
I  were  willing  to  waive  the  question  of  my  pro- 
fessional honour,  I  should  still  decline  to  under- 
take a  task  which,  I  know,  is  foredoomed  to 
failure.  For,  if  7  discovered  Lady  Wilmersley 
with  so  little  difficulty,  Scotland  Yard  is  bound 
to  do  so  before  long.  The  trail  is  too  unmis- 
takable. It  is  impossible — absolutely  impos- 
sible, I  assure  you,  that  the  secret  can  be  kept." 

Cyril  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  wish  I  could  convince  your  Lordship  of 
this  and  induce  you  to  allow  the  law  to  take  its 
course.  Her  Ladyship  ought  to  come  forward 
at  once  and  plead  justifiable  homicide.  If  she 
waits  till  she  is  arrested,  it  will  tell  heavily 
against  her." 

"  But  she   is   ill,   really  ill,"   insisted   Cyril. 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  241 

"  Dr.  Stuart-Smith  tells  me  that  if  she  is  not 
kept  perfectly  quiet  for  the  next  few  weeks,  her 
nervous  system  may  never  recover  from  the 
shock." 

"  H'm !  That  certainly  complicates  the  situa- 
tion; on  the  other  hand,  you  must  remember 
that  discovery  is  not  only  inevitable  but  im- 
minent, and  that  the  police  will  not  stop  to  con- 
sider her  Ladyship's  nervous  system.  No,  my 
lord,  the  only  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  break 
the  news  to  her  yourself  and  to  persuade  her 
to  give  herself  up.  If  you  don't,  you  will  both 
live  to  regret  it." 

"  That  may  be  so,"  replied  Cyril  after  a 
minute's  hesitation,  "  but  in  this  matter  I  must 
judge  for  myself.  I  still  hope  that  you  are 
wrong  and  that  either  the  young  woman  in  ques- 
tion is  not  Lady  Wilmersley  or  that  it  was  not 
her  Ladyship  who  killed  my  cousin,  and  I  refuse 
to  jeopardise  her  life  till  I  am  sure  that  there 
is  no  possibility  of  your  having  made  a  mistake. 
But  don't  throw  up  the  case  yet.  So  far  you 
have  only  sought  for  evidence  which  would 
strengthen  your  theory  of  her  Ladyship's  guilt, 
now  I  want  you  to  look  at  the  case  from  a  fresh 

16 


242  Who  ? 

point  of  view.  I  want  you  to  start  all  over  again 
and  to  work  on  the  assumption  that  her  Ladyship 
did  not  fire  the  shot.  I  cannot  accept  your  con- 
clusion as  final  till  we  have  exhausted  every 
other  possibility.  These  Frenchmen,  for  in- 
stance, have  they  or  have  they  not  a  connection 
with  the  case?  And  then  there  is  Valdriguez. 
Why  have  you  never  suspected  her?  At  the  in- 
quest she  acknowledged  that  no  one  had  seen 
her  leave  her  Ladyship's  apartments  and  we 
have  only  her  word  for  it  that  she  spent  the 
evening  in  her  room." 

"  True.  But,  if  I  went  on  the  principle  of 
suspecting  every  one  who  cannot  prove  them- 
selves innocent,  I  should  soon  be  lost  in  a  quag- 
mire of  barren  conjectures.  Of  course,  I  have 
considered  Valdriguez,  but  I  can  find  no  reason 
for  suspecting  her." 

"  Well,  I  could  give  you  a  dozen  reasons." 
"  Indeed,  my  lord,  and  what  are  they?  " 
"  In  the  first  place,  we  know  that  she  is  a 
hard,  unprincipled  woman,  or  she  would  never 
have  consented  to  aid  my  cousin  in  depriving 
his  unfortunate  wife  of  her  liberty.     A  woman 
who  wTould  do  that,  is  capable  of  any  villainy. 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  243 

Then,  on  the  witness-stand  did  n't  you  feel  that 
she  was  holding  something  back?  Oh,  I  forgot 
you  were  not  present  at  the  inquest." 

"  I  was  there,  my  lord,  but  I  took  good  care 
that  no  one  should  recognise  me." 

"  Well,  and  what  impression  did  she  make  on 
you?  " 

"  A  fairly  favourable  one,  my  lord.  I  think 
she  spoke  the  truth  and  I  fancy  that  she  is  al- 
most a  religious  fanatic." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Judson,  that  you 
allowed  yourself  to  be  taken  in  by  her  sancti- 
monious airs  and  the  theatrical  way  that  she 
kept  clutching  at  that  cross  on  her  breast?  A 
religious  fanatic  indeed!  Why,  don't  you  see 
that  no  woman  with  a  spark  of  religion  in  her 
could  have  allowed  her  mistress  to  be  treated  as 
Lady  Wilmersley  was?  " 

"  Quite  so,  my  lord,  and  it  is  because  Valdri- 
guez  impressed  me  as  an  honest  old  creature 
that  I  am  still  doubtful  whether  her  Ladyship 
is  insane  or  not,  and  this  uncertainty  hampers 
me  very  much  in  my  work." 

"  Lady  Upton  assured  me  that  her  grand- 
daughter's mind  had  never  been  unbalanced  and 


244  Who  ? 

that  his  Lordship,  although  he  frequently  wrote 
to  her,  had  never  so  much  as  hinted  at  such  a 
thing;  and  if  you  believe  the  young  lady  at  the 
nursing  home  to  be  Lady  Wilmersley,  I  give  you 
my  word  that  she  shows  no  sign  of  mental 
derangement." 

"  Well,  that  seems  pretty  final,  and  yet — and 
yet — I  cannot  believe  that  Valdriguez  is  a  vicious 
woman.  A  man  in  my  profession  acquires  a 
curious  instinct  in  such  matters,  my  lord."  The 
detective  paused  a  moment  and  when  he  began 
again,  he  spoke  almost  as  if  he  were  reasoning 
with  himself.  Now,  if  my  estimate  of  Valdri- 
guez is  correct,  and  if  it  is  also  a  fact  that  Lady 
Wilmersley  has  never  been  insane,  there  are 
certainly  possibilities  connected  with  this  affair 
which  I  have  by  no  means  exhausted — and  so, 
my  lord,  I  am  not  only  willing  but  anxious  to 
continue  on  the  case,  if  you  will  agree  to  allow 
me  to  ignore  her  Ladyship's  existence." 

"  Certainly.  But  tell  me,  Judson,  how  can 
you  hope  to  reconcile  two  such  absolutely  con- 
tradictory facts?  " 

"  Two  such  apparently  contradictory  facts," 
gently  corrected  the  detective.  "  Well,  my 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  245 

lord,  I  propose  to  find  out  more  of  this  woman's 
antecedents.  I  have  several  times  tried  to  get 
her  to  talk,  but  so  far  without  the  least  success. 
She  says  that  she  will  answer  any  question  put 
to  her  on  the  witness-stand,  but  that  it  is  against 
her  principles  to  gossip  about  her  late  master 
and  mistress.  She  is  equally  reticent  as  to  her 
past  life  and  when  I  told  her  that  her  silence 
seemed  to  me  very  suspicious,  she  demanded — 
suspicious  of  what?  She  went  on  to  say  that 
she  could  not  see  that  it  was  anybody's  business, 
where  she  lived  or  what  she  had  done,  and  that 
she  had  certainly  no  intention  of  gratifying  my 
idle  curiosity;  and  that  was  the  last  word  I 
could  get  out  of  her.  Although  she  treated  me 
so  cavalierly,  I  confess  to  a  good  deal  of  sym- 
pathy with  her  attitude." 

"  Have  you  questioned  Mrs.  Eversley  about 
her?  "  asked  Cyril.  "  She  was  housekeeper  here 
when  Valdriguez  first  came  to  Geralton  and 
ought  to  be  able  to  tell  you  what  sort  of  person 
she  was  in  her  youth." 

"  Mrs.  Eversley  speaks  well  of  her.  The 
only  thing  she  told  me  which  may  have  a  bear- 
ing on  the  case  is,  that  in  the  old  days  his 


246  Who  ? 

Lordship  appeared  to  admire  Valdriguez  very 
much." 

"  Ah !     I  thought  so,"  cried  Cyril. 

"  But  we  cannot  be  too  sure  of  this,  my  lord. 
For  when  I  tried  to  find  out  what  grounds  she 
had  for  her  statement,  she  had  so  little  proof  to 
offer  that  I  cannot  accept  her  impression  as 
conclusive  evidence.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out, 
the  gossip  about  them  was  started  by  his  Lord- 
ship going  to  the  Catholic  church  in  Newhaven." 

"  By  going  to  the  Catholic  church !  "  exclaimed 
Cyril. 

"  Exactly.  Not  a  very  compromising  act  on 
his  Lordship's  part,  one  would  think.  But  as 
his  Lordship  was  not  a  Catholic,  his  doing  so 
naturally  aroused  a  good  deal  of  comment.  At 
first  the  neighbourhood  feared  that  he  had  been 
converted  by  his  mother,  who  had  often  lamented 
that  she  had  not  been  allowed  to  bring  up  her 
son  in  her  own  faith.  It  was  soon  noticed,  how- 
ever, that  whenever  his  Lordship  attended  a 
popish  service,  his  mother's  pretty  maid  was  in- 
variably present,  and  so  people  began  to  put  two 
and  two  together  and  before  long  it  was  univer- 
sally assumed  that  she  was  the  magnet  which 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  247 

had  drawn  him  away  from  his  own  church.  I 
asked  Mrs.  Eversley  if  they  had  been  seen  to- 
gether elsewhere,  and  she  reluctantly  admitted 
that  they  had.  On  several  occasions  they  were 
seen  walking  in  the  Park  but  always,  so  Mrs. 
Eversley  assured  me,  in  full  view  of  the  castle. 
She  had  felt  it  her  duty  to  speak  to  Valdriguez 
on  the  subject,  and  the  latter  told  her  that  his 
Lordship  was  interested  in  her  religion  and  that 
she  was  willing  to  run  the  risk  of  having  her 
conduct  misconstrued  if  she  could  save  his'  soul 
from  eternal  damnation.  She  also  gave  Mrs. 
Eversley  to  understand  that  she  had  her  mis- 
tress's sanction,  and  as  her  Ladyship  treated 
Valdriguez  more  as  a  companion  and  friend 
than  as  a  maid,  Mrs.  Eversley  thought  this  quite 
likely  and  did  not  venture  to  remonstrate  further. 
So  the  intimacy,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  con- 
tinued as  before.  What  the  outcome  of  this 
state  of  things  would  have  been  we  do  not  know, 
for  shortly  afterwards  both  Lord  and  Lady 
Wilmersley  died  and  Valdriguez  left  Geralton. 
When  his  Lordship  went  away  a  few  weeks 
later,  a  good  many  people  suspected  that  he 
had  joined  her  on  the  continent.  Mrs.  Eversley, 


248  Who? 

however,  does  not  believe  this.  She  has  the 
most  absolute  confidence  in  Valdriguez's  virtue, 
and  I  think  her  testimony  is  pretty  reliable." 

"  Bah !  Mrs.  Eversley  is  an  honest,  simple 
old  soul.  A  clever  adventuress  would  have  little 
difficulty  in  hoodwinking  her.  Mark  my  words, 
you  have  found  the  key  to  the  mystery.  What 
more  likely  than  that  his  Lordship — whose 
morals,  even  as  a  boy,  were  none  of  the  best — 
seduced  Valdriguez  and  that  she  returned  to 
Geralton  so  as  to  have  the  opportunity  of 
avenging  her  wrongs." 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing  more  unlikely  than 
that  his  Lordship  should  have  selected  his  cast- 
oft'  mistress  as  his  wife's  attendant,"  Judson 
drily  remarked. 

"  Not  at  all.  You  did  n't  know  him,"  replied 
Cyril.  "  I  can  quite  fancy  that  the  situation 
would  have  appealed  to  his  cynical  humour." 

"  Your  opinion  of  the  late  Lord  Wilmersley  is 
certainly  not  flattering,  but  even  if  we  take  for 
granted  that  such  an  arrangement  would  not 
have  been  impossible  to  his  Lordship,  I  still 
refuse  to  believe  that  Valdriguez  would  have 
agreed  to  it;  even  assuming  that  his  Lordship 


What  Is  the  Truth  ?  249 

bad  wronged  her  and  that  she  had  nursed  a 
murderous  resentment  against  him  all  these 
years,  I  cannot  see  how  she  could  have  hoped 
to  further  her  object  by  accepting  the  humiliat- 
ing position  of  his  wife's  maid.  It  also  seems 
to  me  incredible  that  a  woman  whose  passions 
were  so  violent  as  to  find  expression  in  murder 
could  have  controlled  them  during  a  lifetime. 
But  leaving  aside  these  considerations,  I  have 
another  reason  to  urge  against  your  theory: 
Would  his  Lordship  have  trusted  a  woman  who, 
he  knew,  had  a  grievance  against  him,  as  he 
certainly  trusted  Valdriguez?  She  had  free  ac- 
cess to  his  apartments.  What  was  there  to  have 
prevented  her  from  giving  him  an  overdose  of 
some  drug  during  one  of  the  many  times  when 
he  was  half -stupefied  with  opium?  Nothing. 
The  risk  of  detection  would  have  been  in- 
finitesimal. No,  my  lord,  why  Valdriguez 
returned  to  Geralton  is  an  enigma,  I  grant 
you,  but  your  explanation  does  not  satisfy 
me." 

"  As  long  as  you  acknowledge  that  Valclri- 
guez's  presence  here  needs  an  explanation  and 
are  willing  to  work  to  find  that  explanation,  I 


250 


Who? 


don't  care  whether  you  accept  my  theory  or  not; 
all  I  want  to  get  at  is  the  truth." 

"  The  truth,  my  lord,"  said  the  detective,  as 
he  rose  to  take  his  leave,  "  is  often  more  praised 
than  appreciated." 


CHAPTER  XV 

FINGER   FEINTS   IN   THE   DUST 

As  Cyril  sat  toying  with  his  dinner,  it  was 
little  by  little  borne  in  on  him  that  the  butler 
had  something  on  his  mind.  How  he  got  this 
impression  he  really  did  not  know,  for  Douglas 
performed  his  duties  as  precisely,  as  unobtrus- 
ively as  ever.  Yet  long  before  the  last  course 
had  been  reached,  Cyril  was  morally  certain  that 
he  had  not  been  mistaken.  He  waited  for  the 
dessert  to  be  placed  on  the  table;  then,  having 
motioned  the  footmen  to  leave  the  room,  he  half 
turned  to  the  butler,  who  was  standing  behind 
his  chair. 

"  Douglas." 

"  Yes,  my  lord?  "  The  man  stepped  forward, 
so  as  to  face  his  master. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter? "  asked  Cyril, 
scrutinising  the  other  attentively. 

The  abrupt  question  seemed  neither  to  sur- 
251 


252  Who  ? 

prise  nor  to  discompose  the  butler;  yet  he  hesi- 
tated before  finally  answering: 

"  I — I  don't  quite  know,  my  lord." 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Cyril  impatiently. 
"  You  must  know  whether  or  not  something  has 
happened  to  upset  you." 

Douglas  fidgeted  uneasily. 

"  Well,  my  lord — it 's  this  way,  my  lord — 
Susan,  the  upper  'ousemaid,  says  as  how  there 
has  been  somebody  or — "  here  his  voice  sank  to 
a  whisper  and  he  cast  an  apprehensive  glance 
over  his  shoulder — "  or  something  in  the  library 
last  night ! " 

Cyril  put  down  the  glass  of  wine  he  was  car- 
rying to  his  lips  untasted. 

"  She  thinks  she  saw  a  ghost  in  the  library?  " 

"  No,  my  lord.  She  did  n't  see  anything,  but 
this  morning  she  found  finger-marks  on  the  top 
of  his  Lordship's  desk." 

"  Pooh !  What  of  that?  One  of  the  servants 
may  have  gone  in  there  out  of  curiosity." 

"  But  what  would  anybody  be  doing  there  in 
the  night,  I  should  like  to  know?  And  Susan 
says  those  marks  could  only  'ave  been  made  last 
night,  my  lord." 


Finger  Prints  in  the  Dust        253 

"  Why?  " 

"  On  account  of  the  dust,  my  lord.  It  takes 
time  for  dust  to  settle  and  a  'ousemaid,  who 
knows  'er  business,  can  tell,  after  she 's  been  in 
a  place  a  couple  of  months,  just  about  'ow  long 
it 's  been  since  any  particular  piece  of  furniture 
has  been  dusted.  Aye,  Susan  knows,  my  lord. 
No  young  'ousemaid  can  pull  the  wool  over  'er 
eyes,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Does  every  one  know  of  Susan's  suspicions?  " 

"  No,  my  lord.  Susan  's  a  sensible  woman, 
and  though  she  was  frightened  something  terri- 
ble, she  only  told  Mrs.  Eversley  and  Mrs.  Ever- 
sley  told  me  and  we  three  agreed  we  'd  hold  our 
tongues.  Every  one  's  that  upset  as  it  is,  that 
they  'd  all  'ave  'ighstrikes  if  they  knew  that  It 
was  walking." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Douglas.  No  one  believes 
in  ghosts  nowadays.  But  even  if  there  were 
such  things,  an  intangible  spirit  could  n't  pos- 
sibly leave  finger-marks  behind  it." 

"  But,  my  lord,  if  you  '11  excuse  me,  my  aunt's 
cousin — "  began  the  butler,  but  Cyril  cut  him 
short. 

"  I   have  no  time  now   to   hear   about  your 


254  Who  ? 

aunt's  cousin,  though  no  doubt  it  is  a  most 
interesting  story.  Send  Susan  to  me  at  once." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord." 

Susan  had,  however,  no  further  information 
to  impart.  She  was  positive  that  the  marks 
must  have  been  made  some  time  during  the  night. 

"  And  it 's  my  belief  they  were  made  by  a 
skeleton  hand,"  she  added.  "  And  as  for  going 
into  that  room  again,  indeed  I  just  could  n't,  not 
for  nobody,  meaning  no  disrespect  to  your  Lord- 
ship ;  and  as  for  the  other  'ousemaids,  they  '11 
not  go  near  the  place  either  and  haven't  been 
since  the  murder." 

"  Very  well,  Susan,  I  shall  not  ask  you  to  do 
so.  Those  rooms  shall  not  be  opened  again  till 
this  mystery  is  cleared  up.  I  will  go  now  and 
lock  them  up  myself." 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord." 

Striding  rapidly  across  the  hall,  Cyril  opened 
the  door  of  the  library.  This  part  of  the  castle 
had  been  equipped  with  electric  light  and  steam 
heat,  and  as  he  stepped  into  the  darkness,  the 
heavy-scented  air  almost  made  him  reel.  Hav- 
ing found  the  switch,  he  noticed  at  once  that  the 
room  had  indefinably  changed  since  he  had  been 


Finger  Prints  in  the  Dust        255 

in  it  last.  Notwithstanding  the  heat,  notwith- 
standing the  flood  of  crimson  light,  which  per- 
meated even  the  farthest  corners,  it  had  already 
assumed  the  chill,  gloomy  aspect  of  an  abandoned 
apartment. 

Stooping  over  the  desk,  he  eagerly  inspected 
the  marks  which  had  so  startled  the  housemaid. 
Yes,  they  were  still  quite  visible,  although  a 
delicate  film  of  dust  had  already  begun  to  soften 
the  precision  of  their  outline — very  strange! 
They  certainly  did  look  like  the  imprint  of 
skeleton  fingers.  He  laid  his  own  hand  on  the 
desk.  His  fingers  left  a  mark  at  least  twice  as 
wide  as  those  of  the  mysterious  visitant. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  with  bent  head  pon- 
dering deeply ;  then,  throwing  back  his  shoulders, 
as  if  he  had  arrived  at  some  decision,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  explore  the  entire  suite.  Having 
satisfied  himself  that  no  one  was  secreted  on  the 
premises,  he  turned  off  the  light,  shut  the  door 
— but  he  did  not  turn  the  key. 

Some  hours  later  Cyril,  in  his  great  four- 
posted  bed,  lay  watching,  with  wide-open  eyes, 
the  fantastic  shadows  thrown  by  the  dancing 
firelight  on  the  panelled  walls.  To  woo  sleep 


256  Who  ? 

was  evidently  not  his  intention,  for  from  time 
to  time  he  lighted  a  wax  vesta  and  consulted  the 
watch  he  held  in  his  hand.  At  last  the  hour 
seemed  to  satisfy  him,  for  he  got  out  of  bed 
and  made  a  hasty  toilet.  Having  accomplished 
this  as  best  he  could  in  the  semi-obscurity,  he 
slipped  a  pistol  into  his  pocket  and  left  his  room. 
Groping  his  way  through  the  darkness,  he  de- 
scended the  stairs  and  cautiously  traversed  the 
hall.  Not  a  sound  did  he  make.  His  stockinged 
feet  moved  noiselessly  over  the  heavy  carpet.  At 
the  door  of  the  library  he  paused  a  moment  and 
listened  intently;  then,  pistol  in  hand,  he  threw 
open  the  door.  Darkness  and  silence  alone  con- 
fronted him.  Closing  the  door  behind  him,  he 
lighted  a  match  and  carefully  inspected  the  desk. 
Having  assured  himself  that  no  fresh  marks 
had  appeared  on  its  polished  surface,  he  blew 
out  the  match  and  ensconced  himself  as  com- 
fortably as  the  limited  space  permitted  behind 
the  curtains  of  one  of  the  windows.  There  he 
waited  patiently  for  what  seemed  to  him  an 
eternity.  He  had  just  begun  to  fear  that  his 
vigil  would  prove  fruitless,  when  his  ear  was 
gladdened  by  a  slight  sound.  A  moment  later 


Finger  Prints  in  the  Dust        257 

the  light  was  switched  on.  Hardly  daring  to 
breathe,  Cyril  peered  through  the  curtains. 
Valdriguez !  Cyril's  heart  gave  a  bound  of  exulta- 
tion. Had  he  not  guessed  that  those  marks 
could  only  have  been  made  by  her  small,  bony 
fingers? 

Clad  like  a  nun  in  a  loose,  black  garment, 
which  fell  in  straight,  austere  folds  to  her  feet; 
a  black  shawl,  thrown  over  her  head,  casting 
strange  shadows  on  her  pale,  haggard  face,  she 
advanced  slowly,  almost  majestically,  into  the 
room.  Cyril  had  to  acknowledge  that  she 
looked  more  like  a  medieval  saint  than  a  mid- 
night marauder. 

Evidently  the  woman  had  no  fear  of  detection, 
for  she  never  even  cast  one  suspicious  glance 
around  her;  nor  did  she  appear  to  feel  that 
there  was  any  necessity  for  haste,  for  she  lin- 
gered for  some  time  near  the  writing-table,  gaz- 
ing at  it,  as  if  it  had  a  fascination  for  her; 
but,  finally,  she  turned  away  with  a  hopeless 
sigh  and  directed  her  attention  to  the  book- 
case. This  she  proceeded  to  examine  in  the 
most  methodical  manner.  Book  after  book  was 
taken  down,  shaken,  and  the  binding  carefully 


258  Who  ? 

scrutinised.  Having  cleared  a  shelf,  she  drew 
a  tape  measure  from  her  pocket  and  rapped  and 
measured  the  back  and  sides  of  the  case  itself. 

What  on  earth  could  she  be  looking  for, 
wondered  Cyril.  Not  a  will,  surely?  For  his 
cousin's  will,  executed  at  the  date  of  his  mar- 
riage, had  been  found  safely  deposited  with  his 
solicitor.  A  later  will,  perhaps?  One  in  which 
she  hoped  that  her  master  had  remembered  her, 
as  he  had  probably  promised  her  that  he  would? 
Yes,  that  must  be  it 

Well,  there  was  no  further  need  of  conceal- 
ment, he  decided,  so,  parting  the  curtains,  he 
stepped  into  the  room. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  he  demanded. 

His  own  voice  startled  him,  it  rang  out  so 
loud  and  harsh  in  the  silence  of  the  night, 
s  Valdriguez  knelt  on  the  floor  with  her  back  to 
him,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  sudden  shock  had 
paralysed  her,  for  she  made  no  effort  to  move, 
and  her  hand,  arrested  in  the  act  of  replacing 
a  book,  remained  outstretched,  as  if  it  had  been 
turned  to  stone. 

"  It  is  I,  your  master.  What  are  you  doing 
here?  "  he  repeated. 


Finger  Prints  in  the  Dust        259 

He  saw  her  shudder  convulsively,  then  slowly 
she  raised  her  head,  and  as  her  great,  tragic 
eyes  met  his,  Cyril  was  conscious  of  a  revulsion 
of  feeling  toward  her.  Never  had  he  seen  any- 
thing so  hopeless  yet  so  undaunted  as  the  look 
she  gave  him.  It  reminded  him,  curiously 
enough,  of  a  look  he  had  once  seen  in  the  eyes 
of  a  lioness,  who,  with  a  bullet  through  her 
heart,  still  fought  to  protect  her  young. 

Staggering  a  little  as  she  rose,  Valdriguez 
nevertheless  managed  to  draw  herself  up  to  her 
full  height. 

"  I  am  here,  my  lord,  to  get  what  is  mine — 
mine,"  she  repeated  almost  fiercely. 

Cyril  pulled  himself  together.  It  was  absurd, 
he  reasoned,  to  allow  himself  to  be  impressed  by 
her  strange  personality. 

"  A  likely  story !  "  he  exclaimed ;  and  the  very 
fact  that  he  was  more  than  half-inclined  to  be- 
lieve her,  made  him  speak  more  roughly  than 
he  would  otherwise  have  done. 

"  Think  what  you  like,"  she  cried,  shrugging 
her  shoulders  contemptuously.  "  Have  me  ar- 
rested— have  me  hung — what  do  I  care?  Death 
has  no  terrors  for  me." 


26o  Who  ? 

"  So  you  confess  that  it  was  you  who  mur- 
dered his  Lordship?  Ah,  I  suspected  it!  Your 
sanctimonious  airs  did  n't  deceive  me,"  exclaimed 
Cyril  triumphantly. 

"  No,  I  did  not  murder  him,"  she  replied 
calmly,  almost  indifferently. 

"  I  think  you  will  have  some  difficulty  con- 
vincing the  police  of  that.  You  have  no  alibi 
to  prove  that  you  were  not  in  these  rooms  at 
the  time  of  the  murder,  and  now  when  I  tell 
them  that  I  found  you  trying  to  steal " 

"  I  am  no  thief,"  she  interrupted  him  with 
blazing  eyes.  "  I  tell  you,  I  came  here  to  get 
what  is  mine  by  right." 

"  Do  you  really  expect  me  to  believe  that? 
Even  if  what  you  say  were  true,  you  would  not 
have  had  to  sneak  in  here  in  the  middle  of  the 
night.  You  know  very  well  that  I  should  have 
made  no  objections  to  your  claiming  your  own." 

"  So  you  say.  But  if  I  had  gone  to  you  and 
told  you  that  a  great  lord  had  robbed  me,  a 
poor  woman,  of  something  which  is  dearer  to 
me  than  life  itself,  would  you  have  believed  me? 
If  I  had  said  to  you,  '  I  must  look  through  his 
Lordship's  papers ;  I  must  be  free  to  search  every- 


Finger  Prints  in  the  Dust        261 

where,'  would  you  have  given  rne  permission  to 
do  so?  No,  never.  You  think  I  fear  you? 
That  it  was  because  I  was  ashamed  of  my 
errand  that  I  came  here  at  this  hour?  Bah! 
All  I  feared  was  that  I  should  be  prevented 
from  discovering  the  truth.  The  truth?  "  Valdri- 
guez's  voice  suddenly  dropped  and  she  seemed 
to  forget  Cyril's  presence.  "  It  is  here,  some- 
where." She  continued  speaking  as  if  to  her- 
self and  her  wild  eyes  swept  feverishly  around 
the  room.  "  He  told  me  it  was  here — and  yet 
how  can  I  be  sure  of  it?  He  may  have  lied  to 
me  about  this  as  he  did  about  everything  else. 
How  can  I  tell?  Oh,  this  uncertainty  is  torture! 
I  cannot  bear  it  any  longer,  oh,  my  God ! "  she 
cried,  clasping  her  hands  and  lifting  her  stream- 
ing eyes  to  heaven,  "  Thou  knowest  that  I  have 
striven  all  my  life  to  do  Thy  will ;  I  have  borne 
the  cross  that  Thou  sawest  fit  to  lay  upon  me 
without  a  murmur,  nor  have  I  once  begged  for 
mercy  at  Thy  hands;  but  now,  now,  oh,  my 
Father,  I  beseech  thee,  give  me  to  know  the 

truth  before  I  die " 

Cyril  watched  the  woman  narrowly.     He  felt 
that  he  must  try  and  maintain  a  judicial  atti- 


262  Who  ? 

tilde  toward  her  and  not  allow  himself  to  be  led 
astray  by  his  sympathies  which,  as  he  knew  to 
his  cost,  were  only  too  easily  aroused.  After 
all,  he  reasoned,  was  it  not  more  than  likely 
that  she  was  delivering  this  melodramatic  tirade 
for  his  benefit?  On  the  other  hand,  it  was 
against  his  principles  as  well  as  against  his 
inclinations  to  deal  harshly  with  a  woman. 

"  Calm  yourself,  Valdriguez,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  If  you  can  convince  me  that  his  Lordship  had 
in  his  possession  something  which  rightfully  be- 
longed to  you,  I  promise  that,  if  it  can  be  found, 
it  shall  be  restored  to  you.  Tell  me,  what  it  is 
that  you  are  looking  for?  " 

"  Tell  you — never!  Are  you  not  of  his  blood? 
You  promise — so  did  he — the  smooth-tongued 
villain!  All  these  years  have  I  lived  on  pro- 
mises! Never  will  I  trust  one  of  his  race 
again." 

"  You  have  got  to  trust  me  whether  you  want 
to  or  not.  Your  position  could  not  be  worse 
than  it  is,  could  it?  Don't  you  see  that  your 
only  hope  lies  in  being  able  to  pursuade  me  that 
you  are  an  honest  woman?  " 

For  the  first  time  Valdriguez  looked  at  Cyril 


Finger  Prints  in  the  Dust        263 

attentively.  He  felt  as  if  her  great  eyes  were 
probing  his  very  soul. 

"  Indeed,  you  do  not  look  cruel  or  deceitful. 
And,  as  you  say,  I  am  powerless  without  you, 
so  I  must  take  the  risk  of  your  being  what  you 
seem.  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  But  first,  my 
lord,  will  you  swear  not  to  betray  my  secret  to 
any  living  being?  " 

"  You  have  my  word  for  it.  That  is — "  he 
hastily  added,  "  if  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
murder." 

"  Nothing,  my  lord." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  STORY  OF  A  WRONG 

CYRIL  waited  for  her  to  continue,  but  for  a 
long  time  it  seemed  doubtful  if  she  would  have 
the  courage  to  do  so. 

"  I  am  looking,"  she  said  at  last,  speaking 
slowly  and  with  a  visible  effort,  "  for  a  paper 
which  will  tell  me  whether  my — son  is  alive  or 
dead." 

"Your  son?  So  you  were  his  Lordship's 
mistress " 

"  Before  God  I  was  his  wife !  I  am  no  wanton, 
my  lord! " 

"  The  old  story — "  began  Cyril,  but  Valdriguez 
stopped  him  with  a  furious  gesture. 

"  Do  not  dare  to  say  that  my  child's  mother 
was  a  loose  woman!  I  wrill  not  permit  it. 
Arthur  Wilmersley — may  his  Maker  judge  him 

as  he  deserves — wrecked  my  life,  but  at  least 

264 


The  Story  of  a  Wrong  265 

he  never  doubted  my  virtue.  He  knew  that  the 
only  way  to  get  me  was  to  marry  me." 

"  So  he  actually  married  you? "  exclaimed 
Cyril. 

"  No — but  for  a  long  time  I  believed  that  he 
had.  How  could  a  young,  innocent  girl  have 
suspected  that  the  man  she  loved  was  capable 
of  such  cold-blooded  deception?  Even  now,  I 
cannot  blame  myself  for  having  fallen  into  the 
trap  he  baited  with  such  fiendish  cunning. 
Think  of  it — he  induced  me  to  consent  to  a 
secret  marriage  by  promising  that  if  I  made  this 
sacrifice  for  his  sake,  he  would  become  a  convert 
to  my  religion — my  religion!  And  as  we  stood 
together  before  the  altar,  I  remember  that  I 
thanked  God  for  giving  me  this  opportunity  of 
saving  a  soul  from  destruction.  I  never  dreamed 
that  the  church  he  took  me  to  was  nothing  but 
an  old  ruin  he  had  fitted  up  as  a  chapel  for 
the  occasion.  How  could  I  guess  that  the  man 
who  married  us  was  not  a  priest  but  a  mounte- 
bank, whom  he  had  hired  to  act  the  part?  " 

Valdriguez  bowed  her  head  and  the  tears 
trickled  through  her  thin  fingers. 

"  I  know  that  not  many  people  would  believe 


266  Who? 

you  but,  well — I  do."     It  seemed  to  Cyril  as  if 
the  words  sprang  to  his  lips  unbidden. 

"  Then  indeed  you  are  a  good  man,"  exclaimed 
Valdriguez,  "  for  it  is  given  only  to  honest  people 
to  have  a  sure  ear  for  the  truth.  Now  it  will 
be  easier  to  tell  you  the  rest.  Some  weeks  after 
we  had  gone  through  this  ceremony,  first  Lord 
and  then  Lady  Wilmersley  died;  on  her  death- 
bed I  confided  to  my  lady  that  I  was  her  son's 
wife  and  she  gave  me  her  blessing.  My  humble 
birth  she  forgave — after  all  it  was  less  humble 
than  her  own — and  was  content  that  her  son 
had  chosen  a  girl  of  her  own  race  and  faith. 
As  soon  as  the  funeral  was  over,  I  urged  my 
husband  to  announce  our  marriage,  but  he  Avould 
not.  He  proposed  that  we  should  go  for  a  while 
to  the  continent  so  that  on  our  return  it  would 
be  taken  for  granted  that  we  had  been  married 
there,  and  in  this  way  much  unpleasant  talk 
avoided.  So  we  went  to  Paris  and  there  we 
lived  together  openly  as  man  and  wrife,  not  in- 
deed under  his  name  but  under  mine.  He  pre- 
tended that  he  wanted  for  once  to  see  the  world 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  people;  that  he  de- 
sired for  a  short  time  to  be  free  from  the 


The  Story  of  a  Wrong  267 

restrictions  of  his  rank.  I  myself  dreaded  so 
much  entering  a  class  so  far  above  me  that  I 
was  glad  of  the  chance  of  spending  a  few  more 
months  in  obscurity.  For  some  weeks  I  was 
happy,  then  Lord  Wilmersley  began  to  show 
himself  to  me  as  he  really  was.  We  had  taken 
a  large  apartment  near  the  Luxembourg,  and 
soon  it  became  the  meeting- ground  for  the  most 
reckless  element  of  the  Latin  Quarter.  Ah,  if 
you  but  knew  what  sights  I  saw,  what  things 
I  heard  in  those  days!  I  feared  that  my  very 
soul  was  being  polluted,  so  I  consulted  a  priest 
as  to  wrhat  I  should  do.  He  told  me  it  was  my 
duty  to  remain  constantly  at  my  husband's  side ; 
with  prayer  and  patience  I  might  some  day  suc- 
ceed in  reforming  him.  So  I  stayed  in  that  hell 
and  bore  the  insults  and  humiliations  he  heaped 
upon  me  without  a  murmur.  Now,  looking  back 
on  the  past,  I  think  my  meekness  and  resignation 
only  exasperated  him,  for  he  grew  more  and 
more  cruel  and  seemed  to  think  of  nothing  but 
how  to  torture  me  into  revolt.  Whether  I  should 
have  been  given  the  strength  to  endure  indefi- 
nitely, the  life  he  led  me  I  do  not  know,  but  one 
evening,  when  we  were  as  usual  entertaining  a 


268  Who? 

disreputable  rabble,  a  young  man  entered.  I 
recognised  him  at  once.  It  was  the  man  who 
had  married  us!  He  was  dressed  in  a  brown 
velveteen  suit;  a  red  sash  encircled  his  waist; 
and  on  his  arm  he  flaunted  a  painted  woman. 
Imagine  my  feelings!  I  stood  up  and  turned 
to  my  husband.  I  could  not  speak — and  he,  the 
man  I  had  loved,  only  laughed — laughed !  Never 
shall  I  forget  the  sound  of  that  laughter.  .  .  . 

"  That  night  my  child  was  born.  That  was 
twenty-eight  years  ago,  but  it  seems  as  if  it 
were  but  yesterday  that  I  held  his  small,  warm 
body  in  my  arms.  .  .  Then  comes  a  period  of 
which  I  remember  nothing,  and  when  I  finally 
recovered  my  senses,  they  told  me  my  child  was 
dead.  ...  As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  travel,  I 
returned  to  my  old  home  in  Seville  and  there 
I  lived,  working  and  praying — praying  for  my 
own  soul  and  for  that  of  my  poor  baby,  who 
had  died  without  receiving  the  sacrament  of 
baptism.  .  .  .  Years  passed.  I  had  become  re- 
signed to  my  lot,  when  one  day  I  received  a 
letter  from  Lord  Wilmersley.  Oh!  If  I  had 
only  destroyed  it  unopened,  how  much  anguish 
would  have  been  spared  me !  But  at  first  when 


The  Story  of  a  Wrong          269 

I  read  it,  I  thought  my  happiness  would  have 
killed  me,  for  Lord  Wilmersley  wrote  that  my 
boy  was  not  dead  and  that  if  I  would  meet  him 
in  Paris,  he  would  give  me  further  news  of  him. 
I  hesitated  not  a  moment.  At  once  did  I  set 
out  on  my  journey.  On  arriving  in  Paris  I  went 
to  the  hotel  he  had  indicated  and  was  shown  into 
a  private  salon.  There  for  the  first  time  in  a 
quarter  of  a  century  I  saw  again  the  man  I 
had  once  regarded  as  my  husband.  At  first  I 
had  difficulty  in  recognising  him,  for  now  his 
true  character  was  written  in  every  line  of  his 
face  and  figure.  But  I  hardly  gave  a  thought 
either  to  him  or  to  my  wrongs,  so  great  was 
my  impatience  to  hear  news  of  my  son.  .  .  . 
Then  that  fiend  began  to  play  with  me  as  a 
cat  with  a  mouse.  Yes,  my  boy  lived,  had  made 
his  way  in  the  world — that  was  all  he  would 
tell  me.  My  child  had  been  adopted  by  some 
well-to-do  people,  who  had  brought  him  up  as 
their  own — no,  I  need  n't  expect  to  hear  another 
word.  Yes,  he  was  a  fine,  strong  lad— he  would 
say  no  more.  .  .  .  Can  you  imagine  the  scene? 
Finally,  having  wrought  me  up  to  the  point  where 
I  would  have  done  anything  to  wring  the  truth 


270  Who  ? 

from  him,  he  said  to  me :  'I  have  recently  mar- 
ried a  young  wife  and  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  trust  my  honour  in  the  keeping  of  a  girl  who 
married  an  old  man  like  me  for  his  money.  Now 
I  have  a  plan  to  propose  to  you.  Come  and 
live  with  her  as  her  maid  and  help  me  to  guard 
her  from  all  eyes,  and  if  you  fulfil  your  duties 
faithfully,  at  the  end  of  three  years  I  promise 
that  you  shall  see  your  son.' 

"  His  revolting  proposition  made  my  blood 
boil.  Never,  never,  I  told  him,  would  I  ac- 
cept such  a  humiliating  situation.  He  merely 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  that  in  that 
case  I  need  never  hope  to  hear  what  had  become 
of  my  son.  I  raved,  threatened,  pleaded,  but  he 
remained  inflexible,  and  finally  I  agreed  to  do 
his  bidding." 

"  So  you,  who  call  yourself  a  Christian,  ac- 
tually consented  to  help  that  wretch  to  persecute 
his  unfortunate  young  wife?  "  demanded  Cyril 
sternly. 

Valdriguez  flung  her  head  back  defiantly. 

"  His  wife?  What  was  she  to  me?  Besides, 
had  she  not  taken  him  for  better  or  worse? 
Why  should  I  have  helped  her  to  break  the 


The  Story  of  a  Wrong          271 

bonds  her  own  vows  had  imposed  on  her?  He 
did  not  ill-treat  her,  far  from  it.  He  deprived 
her  of  her  liberty,  but  what  of  that?  A  nun 
has  even  less  freedom  than  she  had.  What  were 
her  sufferings  compared  to  mine?  Think  of  it, 
day  after  day  I  had  to  stand  aside  and  watch 
the  man  I  had  once  looked  upon  as  my  husband, 
lavish  his  love,  his  thought,  his  very  life  indeed, 
on  that  pretty  doll.  Although  I  no  longer  loved 
him,  my  flesh  quivered  at  the  sight." 

"  Nevertheless — "  began  Cyril. 

"  My  lord,  I  care  not  for  your  judgment  nor 
for  that  of  any  man.  I  came  here  to  find  my 
son.  Would  you  have  had  me  give  up  that  sacred 
task  because  a  pink  and  white  baby  wanted  to 
flaunt  her  beauty  before  the  world?  Ah,  no! 
Lady  Wilmersley's  fate  troubles  me  not  at  all; 
but  what  breaks  my  heart  is  that,  as  Arthur  died 
just  before  the  three  years  were  up,  I  fear  that 
now  I  shall  never  know  what  has  become  of 
my  boy.  Sometimes  I  have  feared  that  he  is 
dead— but  no,  I  will  not  believe  it!  My  boy 
lives !  I  feel  it!  "  she  cried,  striking  her  breast. 
"And  in  this  room — perhaps  within  reach  of 
my  hand  as  I  stand  here— is  the  paper  which 


272  Who  ? 

would  tell  me  where  he  is.  Ah,  my  lord,  I  beg, 
I  entreat  you  to  help  me  to  find  it !  " 

"  I  will  gladly  do  so,  but  what  reason  have 
you  for  supposing  that  there  is  such  a  paper?  " 

"  It  is  true  that  I  have  only  Lord  Wilmersley's 
word  for  it,"  she  replied,  and  her  voice  sounded 
suddenly  hopeless.  "  Yet  not  once  but  many 
times  he  said  to  me:  1 1  have  a  paper  in  which 
is  written  all  you  wish  to  know,  but  as  I  do  not 
trust  you,  I  have  hidden  it,  yes,  in  this  very 
room  have  I  hidden  it.'  And  now  he  is  dead 
and  I  cannot  find  it!  Oh,  what  shall  I  do? 
What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Even  if  we  cannot  find  the  paper,  there  are 
other  means  of  tracing  your  son.  We  will 
advertise " 

"  Never ! "  she  interrupted  him  vehemently. 
"  I  will  never  consent  to  do  anything  which 
might  reveal  to  him  the  secret  of  his  birth.  I 
would  long  ago  have  taken  steps  to  find  him,  if 
I  had  not  realised  that  I  could  not  do  so  with- 
out taking  a  number  of  people  into  my  confidence, 
and,  if  I  did  that,  the  story  of  my  shame  would 
be  bound  to  leak  out.  Not  for  myself  did  I 
care,  but  for  him.  Think  of  it,  if  what  Lord 


The  Story  of  a  Wrong  273 

Wilmersley  told  me  was  true,  he  holds  an  honour- 
able position,  believes  himself  the  son  of  respect- 
able parents.  Would  it  not  be  horrible,  if  he 
should  suddenly  learn  that  he  is  the  nameless 
child  of  a  servant  girl  and  a  villain?  The  fear 
that  he  should  somehow  discover  the  truth  is 
always  before  me.  That  is  why  I  made  you 
swear  to  keep  my  secret." 

"  Of  course,  I  will  do  as  you  wish,  but  I  assure 
you  that  you  exaggerate  the  risk.  Still,  let  us 
first  search  this  room  thoroughly;  then,  if  we  do 
not  find  the  paper,  it  will  be  time  enough  to 
decide  what  we  shall  do  next." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  you  are  very  good  to  me  and 
may  God  reward  you  as  you  deserve.  Day  and 
night  will  I  pray  for  you."  And  to  Cyril's 
dismay,  Valdriguez  suddenly  bent  down  and 
covered  his  hands  with  kisses. 


18 


CHAPTER  XVII 

GUY   RELENTS 

CYRIL  and  Valdriguez  spent  the  next  morning 
making  a  thorough  search  of  the  library,  but  the 
paper  they  were  looking  for  could  not  be  found. 
Cyril  had  from  the  first  been  sceptical  of  suc- 
cess. He  could  not  believe  that  her  child  was 
still  alive  and  was  convinced  that  Arthur  Wil- 
mersley  had  fabricated  the  story  simply  to  re- 
tain his  hold  over  the  unfortunate  mother. 
Valdriguez,  however,  for  a  long  time  refused 
to  abandon  the  quest.  Again  and  again  she  ran- 
sacked places  they  had  already  carefully  exam- 
ined. When  it  was  finally  borne  in  upon  her 
that  there  was  no  further  possibility  of  finding 
what  she  so  sought,  the  light  suddenly  went 
out  of  her  face  and  she  would  have  fallen  if 
Cyril  had  not  caught  her  and  placed  her  in  a 

chair.     With  arms  hanging  limply  to  her  sides, 

274 


Guy  Relents  275 

her  half-closed  eyes  fixed  vacantly  in  front  of 
her,  she  looked  as  if  death  had  laid  his  hand 
upon  her.  Thoroughly  alarmed,  Cyril  had  the 
woman  carried  to  her  room  and  sent  for  a  doctor. 
When  the  latter  arrived,  he  shook  his  head  hope- 
lessly. She  had  had  a  stroke;  there  was  very 
little  he  could  do  for  her.  In  his  opinion  it 
was  extremely  doubtful  if  she  would  ever  fully 
recover  her  faculties,  he  said. 

Cyril  having  made  every  possible  arrangement 
for  the  comfort  of  the  afflicted  woman,  at  last 
allowed  his  thoughts  to  revert  to  his  own 
troubles. 

He  realised  that  with  the  elimination  of  both 
Valdriguez  and  Prentice  there  was  no  one  but 
Anita  left  who  could  reasonably  be  suspected 
of  the  murder ;  for  that  the  two  Frenchmen  were 
implicated  in  the  affair,  was  too  remote  a  pos- 
sibility to  be  seriously  considered.  No,  he  must 
make  up  his  mind  to  face  the  facts:  the  girl 
was  Anita  Wilmersley  and  she  had  killed  her 
husband!  What  was  he  going  to  do,  now  that 
he  knew  the  truth?  Judson's  advice  that  Anita 
should  give  herself  up,  he  rejected  without  a 
moment's  hesitation.  Yet,  he  had  to  acknow- 


276  Who  ? 

ledge  that  there  was  little  hope  of  her  being 
able  to  escape  detection,  as  long  as  the  police 
knew  her  to  be  alive.  .  .  .  Suddenly  an  idea 
occurred  to  him.  If  they  could  only  be  made 
to  believe  that  she  was  dead,  that  and  that  alone 
would  free  her  at  once  and  forever  from  their 
surveillance.  She  would  be  able  to  leave  Eng- 
land ;  to  resume  her  life  in  some  distant  country 
where  he  ...  Cyril  shrank  instinctively  from 
pursuing  the  delicious  dream  further.  He  tried 
to  force  himself  to  consider  judicially  the  scheme 
that  was  shaping  itself  in  his  mind;  to  weigh 
calmly  and  dispassionately  the  chances  for  and 
against  its  success.  If  a  corpse  resembling 
Anita  were  found,  dressed  in  the  clothes  she 
wore  the  day  she  left  Geralton,  it  would  surely 
be  taken  for  granted  that  the  body  was  hers 
and  that  she  had  been  murdered.  But  how  on 
earth  was  he  to  procure  such  a  corpse  and, 
having  procured  it,  where  wTas  he  to  hide  it? 
The  neighbourhood  of  the  castle  had  been  so 
thoroughly  searched  that  it  would  be  no  easy 
task  to  persuade  the  police  that  they  had  over- 
looked any  spot  where  a  body  might  be  secreted. 
Certainly  the  plan  presented  almost  insurrnount- 


Guy  Relents  277 

able  difficulties,  but  as  it  was  the  only  one  he 
could  think  of,  Cyril  clung  to  it  with  bull-dog 
tenacity. 

"Impossible?  Nonsense!  Nothing  is  impos- 
sible! Impossible  is  but  a  word  designed  to 
shield  the  incompetent  or  frighten  the  timid," 
he  muttered  loudly  in  his  heart,  unconsciously 
squaring  his  broad  shoulders. 

He  decided  to  leave  Geralton  at  once,  for  the 
plan  must  be  carried  out  immediately  or  not  at 
all,  and  it  was  only  in  London  that  he  could 
hope  to  procure  the  necessary  assistance. 

On  arriving  in  town,  however,  Cyril  had  to 
admit  that  he  had  really  no  idea  what  he  ought 
to  do  next.  If  he  could  only  get  in  touch  with 
an  impoverished  medical  student  who  would 
agree  to  provide  a  body,  the  first  and  most  diffi- 
cult part  of  his  undertaking  would  be  achieved. 
But  how  and  wThere  was  he  to  find  this  indis- 
pensable accomplice?  Well,  it  was  too  late  to 
do  anything  that  evening,  he  decided.  He  might 
as  well  go  to  the  club  and  get  some  dinner  and 
try  to  dismiss  the  problem  from  his  mind  for 
the  time  being. 

The  first  person  he  saw  on  entering  the  dining- 


278  Who  ? 

room  was  Campbell.  He  was  sitting  by  himself 
at  a  small  table;  his  round,  rosy  face  depicted 
the  utmost  dejection  and  he  thrust  his  fork 
through  an  oyster  with  much  the  same  expres- 
sion a  man  might  have  worn  who  was  spearing 
a  personal  enemy. 

On  catching  sight  of  Cyril,  he  dropped  his 
fork,  jumped  from  his  seat,  and  made  an  eager 
step  forward.  Then,  he  suddenly  wavered,  evi- 
dently uncertain  as  to  the  reception  Cyril  was 
going  to  accord  him. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  piece  of  luck ! "  cried  Cyril, 
stretching  out  his  hand. 

Guy,  looking  decidedly  sheepish,  clasped  it 
eagerly. 

"  I  might  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  I  know 
I  made  no  end  of  an  ass  of  myself  the  other 
day,"  he  said,  averting  his  eyes  from  his  friend's 
face.  "  It  is  really  pretty  decent  of  you  not  to 
have  resented  my  ridiculous  accusations." 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right,"  Cyril  assured  him,  "  I 
quite  understood  your  motive.  But  I  am  awfully 
glad  you  have  changed  your  attitude  towards 
me,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  in  great 
need  of  vour  assistance." 


Guy  Relents  279 

"  Oh,  Lor' !  "  ejaculated  Campbell,  screwing 
up  his  face  into  an  expression  of  comic  despair. 

As  soon  as  there  was  no  danger  of  their  being 
overheard,  Cyril  told  Campbell  of  his  interview 
with  Judson.  At  first  Guy  could  not  be  per- 
suaded that  the  girl  was  Anita  Wilmersley. 

"  She  is  not  a  liar,  I  am  sure  of  it !  If  she 
said  that  her  hair  had  turned  white,  it  had 
turned  white,  and  therefore  it  is  impossible  that 
she  had  dyed  it,"  objected  Campbell. 

"  Judson  suggested  that  she  dyed  only  part 
of  her  hair  and  that  it  was  the  rest  which  turned 
white." 

Having  finally  convinced  Guy  that  there  was 
no  doubt  as  to  the  girl's  identity,  Cyril  proceeded 
to  unfold  his  plan  for  rescuing  her  from  the 
police. 

Guy  adjusted  his  eye-glass  and  stared  at  his 
friend  speechless  with  consternation. 

"  This  affair  has  turned  your  brain,"  he  finally 
gasped.  "  Your  plan  is  absurd,  al>solutely  ab- 
surd, I  tell  you.  Why,  even  if  I  could  bribe 
some  one  to  procure  me  a  corpse,  how  on  earth 
could  you  get  it  to  Geralton?  " 

"  In  a  motor-car." 


280  Who? 

"  And  where  under  Heaven  are  you  to  hide 
it?  " 

"  Get  me  a  corpse  and  I  will  arrange  the  rest," 
Cyril  assured  him  with  more  confidence  than  he 
really  felt. 

"  First  you  saddle  me  with  a  lot  of  stolen 
jewels  and  now  you  want  me  to  travel  around 
the  country  with  a  corpse  under  my  arm!  I 
say,  you  do  select  nice,  pleasant  jobs  for  me!  " 
exclaimed  Campbell. 

"  Have  you  any  other  plan  to  suggest?  "  asked 
Cyril. 

"  Can't  say  I  have,"  acknowledged  Guy. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  sit  still  and  see  Anita 
Wilmersley  arrested?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  but  your  scheme  is  a  mad  one 
— madder  than  anything  I  should  have  credited 
even  you  with  having  conceived."  Campbell 
paused  a  moment  as  if  considering  the  question 
in  all  its  aspects.  "  However,  the  fact  that  it 
is  crazy  may  save  us.  The  police  will  not  be 
likely  to  suspect  two  reputable  members  of  so- 
ciety, whose  sanity  has  so  far  not  been  doubted, 
of  attempting  to  carry  through  such  a  wild, 
impossible  plot.  Yes,"  he  mused,  "  the  very 


Guy  Relents  281 

impossibility  of  the  thing  may  make  it  pos- 
sible." 

"  Glad  you  agree  with  me,"  cried  Cyril  en- 
thusiastically. "  Now  how  soon  can  you  get  a 
corpse,  do  you  think?  " 

"  Good  Lord,  man !  You  talk  as  if  I  could 
order  one  from  Whiteley's.  When  can  I  get  you 
a  corpse — indeed?  To-morrow — in  a  week — a 
month — a  year — never.  The  last-mentioned  date 
I  consider  the  most  likely.  I  will  do  what  I 
can,  that  is  all  I  can  say;  but  how  I  am  to  go 
to  work,  upon  my  word,  I  haven't  the  faintest 
idea." 

"  You  are  an  awfully  clever  chap,  Guy." 

"  None  of  your  blarney.  I  won't  have  it !  I 
am  the  absolute  fool,  but  I  am  still  sane  enough 
to  know  it." 

"  Very  well,  I  '11  acknowledge  that  you  are  a 
fool  and  I  only  wish  there  were  more  like  you," 
said  Cyril,  clapping  his  friend  affectionately  on 
the  back. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  added,  turning  away  as  if 
in  search  of  a  match  and  trying  to  speak  as 
carelessly  as  possible,  "  How  is  Anita?  " 

For  a  moment  Guy  did  not  answer  and  Cyril 


282  Who  ? 

stood  fumbling  with  the  matches  fearful  of  the 
effect  of  the  question.  He  was  still  doubtful 
how  far  his  friend  had  receded  from  his  former 
position  and  was  much  relieved  when  Guy 
finally  answered  in  a  very  subdued  voice: 

"  She  is  pretty  well — but — "     He  hesitated. 

Cyril  turned  quickly  round.  He  noticed  that 
Guy's  face  had  lengthened  perceptibly  and  that 
he  toyed  nervously  with  his  eye-glass. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  inquired  anxiously. 

"  The  fact  is,"  replied  Campbell,  speaking 
slowly  and  carefully  avoiding  the  other's  eye, 
"  I  think  it  is  possible  that  she  misses  you." 

Cyril's  heart  gave  a  sudden  jump. 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  it,"  he  managed  to 
stutter. 

"  Of  course,  Miss  Trevor  may  be  mistaken. 
It  was  her  idea,  not  mine,  that  Ani — Lady  Wil- 
mersley  I  mean — is  worrying  over  your  absence. 
But  whatever  the  cause,  the  fact  remains  that 
she  has  changed  very  much.  She  is  no  longer 
frank  and  cordial  in  her  manner  either  to  Miss 
Trevor  or  myself.  It  seems  almost  as  if  she 
regarded  us  both  with  suspicion,  though  what 
she  can  possibly  suspect  us  of,  I  can't  for  the 


Guy  Relents  283 

life  of  me  imagine.  That  day  at  lunch  she  was 
gay  as  a  child,  but  now  she  is  never  anything 
but  sad  and  preoccupied." 

"  Perhaps  she  is  beginning  to  remember  the 
past,"  suggested  Cyril. 

"How  can  I  tell?  Miss  Trevor  and  I  have 
tried  everything  we  could  think  of  to  induce  her 
to  confide  in  us,  but  she  won't.  Possibly  you 
might  be  more  successful — "  An  involuntary 
sigh  escaped  Campbell.  "  I  am  sorry  now  that 
I  prevented  you  from  seeing  her.  Mind  you,  I 
still  think  it  wiser  not  to  do  so,  but  I  ought  to 
have  left  you  free  to  use  your  own  judgment. 
The  number  of  her  sitting-room  is  62,  on  the 
second  floor  and,  for  some  reason  or  other,  she 
insists  on  being  left  there  alone  every  afternoon 
from  three  to  four.  Now  I  have  told  you  all 
I  know  of  the  situation  and  you  must  handle  it 
as  you  think  best." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A    SLIP   OF    THE   TONGUE 

CYRIL  spent  the  night  in  a  state  of  pitiable 
indecision.  Should  he  or  should  he  not  risk  a 
visit  to  Anita?  If  the  police  were  shadowing 
him,  it  would  be  fatal,  but  he  had  somehow  lately 
acquired  the  conviction  that  they  were  not.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  he  could  only  see  her,  how  it 
would  simplify  everything!  As  she  distrusted 
both  Guy  and  Miss  Trevor,  even  if  his  plot  suc- 
ceeded, she  would  probably  refuse  to  leave  Eng- 
land unless  he  himself  told  her  that  he  wished 
her  to  do  so.  Besides,  there  were  so  many  de- 
tails to  be  discussed,  so  many  arrangements  to 
be  talked  over.  "  Yes,"  he  said  to  himself  as 
he  lay  staring  into  the  darkness,  "  it  is  my  duty 
to  see  her.  I  shall  go  to  her  not  because  I  want 
to ..."  A  horrid  doubt  made  him  pause. 

Was  he  so  sure  that  his  decision  was  not  the 

284 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  285 

outcome  of  his  own  desire?  How  could  he  trust 
his  judgment  in  a  matter  where  his  inclinations 
were  so  deeply  involved?  Yet  it  would  be  shock- 
ing if  he  allowed  his  own  feelings  to  induce  him 
to  do  something  which  might  be  injurious  to 
Anita.  It  was  a  nice  question  to  determine 
whether  her  need  of  him  was  sufficient  to  justify 
him  in  risking  a  visit?  For  hours  he  debated 
with  himself  but  could  arrive  at  no  conclusion. 
No  sooner  did  he  resolve  to  stay  away  from  her 
than  the  thought  of  her  unhappiness  again  made 
him  waver.  If  he  only  knew  why  she  was  so 
unhappy,  he  told  himself  that  the  situation 
would  not  be  so  unendurable.  When  he  had 
talked  to  her  over  the  telephone,  she  had  seemed 
cheerful ;  she  had  spoken  of  Guy  and  Miss  Trevor 
with  enthusiasm.  What  could  have  occurred 
since  then  to  make  her  distrust  them  and  to 
plunge  her  into  such  a  state  of  gloom?  As  he 
tossed  to  and  fro  on  his  hot,  tumbled  bed,  his 
imagination  pictured  one  dire  possibility  after 
another,  till  at  last  he  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  could  bear  the  uncertainty  no  longer.  He 
must  see  her!  He  would  see  her ! 

Having    reached    this    decision,    Cyril    could 


286  Who  ? 

hardly  refrain  from  rushing  off  to  her  as  soon 
as  it  was  light.  However,  he  had  to  curb  his 
impatience.  Three  o'clock  was  the  only  hour 
he  could  be  sure  of  finding  her  alone;  so  he 
must  wait  till  three  o'clock.  But  how  on  earth, 
he  asked  himself,  was  he  going  to  get  through 
the  intervening  time?  He  was  in  a  state  of 
feverish  restlessness  that  was  almost  agony;  he 
could  not  apply  himself  to  anything;  he  could 
only  wait — wait.  Although  he  knew  that  there 
was  no  chance  of  his  meeting  Anita,  he  haunted 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  "  George "  all  the 
morning.  Every  few  minutes  he  consulted  his 
watch  and  the  progress  of  the  hands  seemed  to 
him  so  incredibly  slow  that  more  than  once  he 
thought  that  it  must  have  stopped  altogether. 
Finally,  finally,  the  hour  struck. 

Flinging  back  his  shoulders  and  assuming  a 
carelessness  that  almost  amounted  to  a  swagger, 
Cyril  entered  the  hotel.  He  was  so  self-conscious 
that  it  was  with  considerable  surprise  as  well 
as  relief  that  he  noticed  that  no  one  paid  the 
slightest  attention  to  him.  Even  the  porter 
hardly  glanced  at  him,  being  at  the  moment 
engaged  in  speeding  a  parting  guest. 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  287 

Cyril  decided  to  use  the  stairs  in  preference 
to  the  lift,  as  they  were  less  frequented  than  the 
latter,  and  as  it  happened,  he  made  his  way  up 
to  the  second  landing  without  encountering 
anybody. 

There,  however,  he  came  face  to  face  with  a 
pretty  housemaid,  who  to  his  dismay  looked  at 
him  attentively.  Cyril  went  cold  all  over.  Had 
he  but  known  it,  she  had  been  attracted  by  his 
tall,  soldierly  figure  and  had  merely  offered  him 
the  tribute  of  an  admiring  glance.  But  this  ex- 
planation never  occurred  to  our  modest  hero 
and  he  hurried,  quite  absurdly  flustered  by 
this  trifling  incident.  He  found  that  No.  62 
opened  on  a  small,  ill-lighted  hall,  which  was 
for  the  moment  completely  deserted. 

Now  that  he  actually  stood  on  the  threshold 
of  Anita's  room,  Cyril  felt  a  curious  reluctance 
to  proceed  farther.  It  was  unwise  .  .  .  She 
might  not  want  to  see  him  .  .  .  But  even  as 
these  objections  flashed  through  his  mind,  he 
knocked  almost  involuntarily. 

"  Come  in." 

Yet  he  still  hesitated.  His  heart  was  beating 
like  a  sledge-hammer  and  his  hands  were  trem- 


288  Who  ? 

bling.  Never  had  he  experienced  such  a  curious 
sensation  before  and  he  wondered  vaguely  what 
could  be  the  matter  with  him. 

"  I  can't  stand  here  forever,"  he  said  in  his 
heart.  "  I  wanted  to  see  her ;  well  then,  why 
don't  I  open  the  door?  I  am  behaving  like  a 
fool!" 

Still  reasoning  with  himself,  he  finally  en- 
tered the  room. 

A  bright  fire  was  burning  on  the  hearth  and 
before  it  were  heaped  a  number  of  cushions 
and  from  this  lowly  seat  Anita  had  apparently 
hastily  arisen.  The  length  of  time  he  had  taken 
to  answer  her  summons  had  evidently  alarmed 
her,  for  she  stood  like  a  creature  at  bay,  her  eyes 
wude  open  and  frightened.  On  recognising  Cyril 
a  deep  blush  suffused  her  face  and  even  coloured 
the  whiteness  of  her  throat. 

"  So  it  was  you !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Her  relief  was  obvious,  yet  her  manner  was 
distant,  almost  repellent.  Cyril  had  confidently 
anticipated  such  a  different  reception  that  her 
unexpected  coldness  completed  his  discom- 
fiture. He  felt  as  if  the  foundations  of  his  world 
were  giving  away  beneath  his  feet.  He  man- 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  289 

aged,  however,  to  murmur  something,  lie  knew 
not  what.  The  pounding  of  his  heart  prevented 
him  from  thinking  coherently.  When  his  emo- 
tion had  subsided  sufficiently  for  him  to  realise 
what  he  was  doing,  he  found  himself  sitting 
stiffly  on  one  side  of  the  fire  with  Anita  sitting 
equally  stiffly  on  the  other.  She  was  talking — 
no,  rather  she  was  engaging  him  in  polite  con- 
versation. How  long  she  had  been  doing  so  he 
did  not  know,  but  he  gathered  that  it  could  not 
have  been  long,  as  she  was  still  on  the  subject 
of  the  weather. 

"  It  has  been  atrocious  in  London.  I  hope 
you  had  better  luck  in  the  country.  To-day  has 
been  especially  disagreeable,"  she  was  saying. 

Cyril  abused  the  weather  with  a  vigour  which 
was  rather  surprising,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
till  she  had  mentioned  it,  he  had  been  sublimely 
unconscious  whether  the  sun  had  been  shining 
or  not.  But  finally  even  that  prolific  topic  was 
exhausted  and  as  no  other  apparently  suggested 
itself  to  either,  they  relapsed  into  a  constrained 
silence. 

Cyril  was  suffering  acutely.  He  had  so  longed 
to  see  her,  and  now  an  impalpable  barrier  had 
19 


290  Who  ? 

somehow  arisen  between  them  which  separated 
them  more  completely  than  mere  bricks  and 
mortar,  than  any  distance  could  have  done. 
True,  he  could  feast  his  eyes  on  her  cameo-like 
profile;  on  the  soft  curve  of  her  cheek;  on  the 
long,  golden-tipped  lashes;  on  the  slender,  white 
throat,  which  rose  like  a  column  from  the  laces 
of  her  dress.  But  he  dared  not  look  at  her  too 
long.  Cyril  was  not  introspective  and  was  only 
dimly  aware  of  the  cause  of  the  turmoil  which 
was  raging  in  his  heart.  He  did  not  know  that 
he  averted  his  eyes  for  fear  that  the  primitive 
male  within  him  would  break  loose  from  the 
fetters  of  his  will  and  forcibly  seize  the  small 
creature  so  temptingly  within  his  reach. 

"  If  I  only  knew  what  I  have  done  to  dis- 
please her ! "  he  said  to  himself. 

He  longed  to  question  her,  but  she  held  herself 
so  rigidly  aloof  that  he  had  not  the  courage  to 
do  so.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  told  himself  that 
her  coldness  simplified  the  situation;  that  it 
would  have  been  terrible  to  have  had  to  repel 
her  advances;  but  he  could  find  no  consolation 
in  the  thought.  In  speechless  misery  he  sat 
gazing  into  the  fire. 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  291 

Suddenly  he  thrilled  with  the  consciousness 
that  she  was  looking  at  him.  He  turned  towards 
her  and  their  eyes  met. 

The  glance  they  exchanged  was  of  the  briefest 
duration,  but  it  sufficed  to  lift  the  weight  which 
had  been  crushing  him.  He  leaned  eagerly 
forward. 

"  Have  I  offended  you?  "  he  asked. 

The  corners  of  her  mouth  quivered  slightly, 
but  she  did  not  answer. 

"  If  I  have,"  he  continued,  "  I  assure  you  it 
was  quite  unintentionally.  Why,  I  would  give 
my  life  to  save  you  a  moment's  pain.  Can't  you 
feel  that  I  am  speaking  the  truth?  " 

She  turned  her  face  towards  him,  and  as  he 
looked  at  her,  Cyril  realised  that  it  was  not  only 
her  manner  which  had  altered;  she  herself  had 
mysteriously  altered.  At  first  he  could  not  de- 
fine wherein  the  difference  lay,  but  suddenly  it 
flashed  upon  him.  It  was  the  expression  of  her 
eyes  which  had  changed.  Heretofore  he  had 
been  confident  that  they  reflected  her  every  emo- 
tion; but  now  they  were  inscrutable.  It  was 
as  if  she  had  drawn  a  veil  over  her  soul. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said. 


292  Who  ? 

There  was  more  than  a  hint  of  hostility  in  her 
voice. 

The  evasion  angered  him. 

"  That  is  impossible !  Why  not  be  frank  with 
me?  If  my  visit  is  distasteful  to  you,  you  have 
only  to  say  so  and  I  will  go." 

As  she  did  not  immediately  answer,  he  added : 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  go."  His  tone,  how- 
ever, somehow  implied  more  of  a  threat  than  a 
suggestion;  for  since  they  had  exchanged  that 
fleeting  glance  Cyril  had  felt  unreasonably  re- 
assured. Despite  her  coldness,  the  memory  of 
her  tender  entreaties  for  his  speedy  return, 
buoyed  up  his  conceit.  She  could  not  be  as  in- 
different to  him  as  she  seemed,  he  argued  to 
himself.  However,  as  the  moments  passed  and 
she  offered  no  objection  to  his  leaving  her,  his 
newly-aroused  confidence  evaporated. 

"  She  does  not  want  me ! "  he  muttered  to 
himself.  "  I  must  go."  But  he  made  no  motion 
to  do  so ;  he  could  not. 

"  I  can't  leave  her  till  I  know  how  I  have 
offended  her .  .  .  There  are  so  many  arrangements 
to  be  made ...  I  must  get  in  touch  with  her 
again, — "  were  some  of  the  excuses  with  which  he 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  293 

tried  to  convince  himself  that  he  had  a  right 
to  linger. 

He  tried  to  read  her  face,  but  she  had  averted 
her  head  till  he  could  see  nothing  but  one  small, 
pink  ear,  peeping  from  beneath  her  curls. 

Her  silence  exasperated  him. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  to  me?  Why  do  you 
treat  me  like  this? "  he  demanded  almost 
fiercely. 

"  It  is  a  little  difficult  to  know  how  you  wish 
to  be  treated ! "  Her  manner  was  icy,  but  his 
relief  was  so  intense  that  he  scarcely  noticed 
it. 

"  She  is  piqued ! "  he  cried  exultingly  in  his 
heart.  "  She  is  piqued,  that  is  the  whole 
trouble."  He  felt  a  man  once  more,  master 
of  the  situation.  "  She  probably  expected  me 
to — "  He  shrank  from  pursuing  the  thought 
any  further  as  the  hot  blood  surged  to  his  face. 
He  was  again  conscious  of  his  helplessness. 
What  could  he  say  to  her? 

"  Oh,  if  you  could  only  understand ! "  he  ex- 
claimed aloud.  "  I  suppose  you  think  me  cold 
and  unfeeling?  I  only  wish  I  were!  .  .  .  Oh, 
this  is  torture! " 


294  Who  ? 

She  seemed  startled  by  his  vehemence,  for  she 
looked  up  at  him  timidly. 

"  Can't  you  trust  me?  "  he  continued.  "  Won't 
you  tell  me  what  has  come  between  us?  " 

Two  big  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes. 

The  sight  was  too  much  for  Cyril.  Bight  and 
wrong  ceased  to  exist  for  him.  He  forgot  every- 
thing ;  stooping  forward  he  gathered  her  into  his 
arms  and  crushed  her  small  body  against  his  heart. 

She  thrust  him  from  her  with  unexpected  force 
and  stood  before  him  with  blazing  eyes. 

"  You  cannot  treat  me  like  a  child,  who  can 
be  neglected  one  day  and  fondled  the  next!  I 
won't  have  it!  At  the  nursing  home  I  was  too 
weak  and  confused  to  realise  how  strangely  you 
were  behaving,  but  now  I  know.  You  dare  to 
complain  of  my  coldness — my  coldness  indeed! 
Is  my  coldness  a  match  to  yours?  Why  do  you 
suddenly  pretend  to  love  me?" 

He  interrupted  her  with  a  vigorous  protest. 

"  If  you  do,  then  your  conduct  is  all  the  more 
inexplicable.  If  you  do,  then  I  ask  you,  what 
is  it,  who  is  it,  that  stands  between  us?  " 

"  If  I  could  tell  you,  don't  you  suppose  I 
would?"  declared  Cyril. 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  295 

"  Then  there  is  some  one,  some  person  who  is 
keeping  us  apart !  " 

"  No — oh,  not  exactly." 

"Ah,  you  see,  you  can't  deny  it!  There  is 
another  woman  in  your  life.  I  know  it !  I  felt 
it!" 

"  No — no !     I  love  you !  "  cried  Cyril. 

He  hardly  knew  what  he  was  saying;  the 
words  seemed  to  have  leaped  to  his  lips. 

She  regarded  him  for  a  second  in  silence  evi- 
dently only  partially  convinced. 

Cyril  felt  horribly  guilty.  He  had  momen- 
tarily forgotten  his  wife,  and  although  he  tried 
to  convince  himself  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth 
and  that  it  was  not  she  who  was  keeping  them 
apart,  yet  he  had  to  acknowledge  that  if  he 
had  been  free,  he  would  certainly  have  be- 
haved very  differently  towards  Anita.  So  in  a 
sense  he  had  lied  to  her  and  as  he  realised  this, 
his  eyes  sank  before  hers.  She  did  not  fail  to 
note  his  embarrassment  and  pressed  her  point 
inexorably. 

"  Swear  that  there  is  no  other  woman  who  has 
a  claim  on  you  and  I  will  believe  you." 

He  could  not  lie  to  her  in  cold  blood.     Yet 


296  Who  ? 

to  tell  her  the  truth  was  also  out  of  the  question, 
he  said  to  himself. 

While  he  still  hesitated,  she  continued  more 
vehemently. 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  tell  me  anything  of  your 
past  or  my  past,  if  you  had  rather  not  do  so. 
One  thing,  however,  I  must  and  will  know — who 
is  this  woman  and  what  are  her  pretensions?  " 

"  I — I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I 
only  wish  I  could.  Some  day,  I  promise  you, 
you  shall  know  everything,  but  now  it  is  impos- 
sible. But  this  much  I  will  say — I  love  you 
as  I  have  never  loved  any  one  in  my  whole 
life." 

She  trembled  from  head  to  foot  and  half  closed 
her  eyes. 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke.  Cyril  felt  that 
this  very  silence  established  a  communion  be- 
tween them,  more  complete,  more  intense  than 
any  words  could  have  done.  But  as  be  gazed 
at  the  small,  drooping  figure,  he  felt  that  his 
self-control  was  deserting  him  completely.  He 
almost  reeled  with  the  violence  of  his  emotion. 

"  I  can't  stand  it  another  moment,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  I  must  go  before — "  He  did  not 


A  Slip  of  the  Tongue  297 

finish  the  sentence  but  clenched  his  hands  till 
the  knuckles  showed  white  through  the  skin. 

He  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  can't  stay !  "  he  exclaimed  aloud.  "  For- 
give me,  Anita.  I  can't  tell  you  what  I  feel. 
Good-bye ! "  He  murmured  incoherently  and 
seizing  her  hands,  he  pressed  them  for  an  in- 
stant against  his  lips,  then  dropping  them 
abruptly,  he  fled  from  the  room. 

Cyril  in  his  excitement  had  not  noticed  that 
he  had  called  Anita  by  her  name  nor  did  he  per- 
ceive the  start  she  gave  when  she  heard  it.  After 
the  door  had  clicked  behind  him,  she  sat  as  if 
turned  to  stone,  white  to  her  very  lips. 

Slowly,  as  if  with  an  effort,  her  lips  moved. 

"  Anita?  "  she  whispered  to  herself.  "  Anita?  " 
she  repeated  over  and  over  again  as  if  she  were 
trying  to  learn  a  difficult  lesson. 

Suddenly  a  great  light  broke  over  her  face. 

"  I  am  Anita  Wilmersley ! "  she  cried  aloud. 

But  the  tension  had  been  too  great;  with  a 
little  gasp  she  sank  fainting  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTEE  XIX 

AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR 

WHAT  he  did  during  the  next  few  hours,  Cyril 
never  quite  knew.  He  retained  a  vague  impres- 
sion of  wandering  through  endless  streets  and 
of  being  now  and  then  arrested  in  his  heedless 
course  by  the  angry  imprecations  of  some  way- 
farer he  had  inadvertently  jostled  or  of  some 
Jehu  whose  progress  he  was  blocking. 

How  could  he  have  behaved  like  such  a  fool, 
he  kept  asking  himself.  He  had  not  said  a  thing 
to  Anita  that  he  had  meant  to  say — not  one. 
Worse  still,  he  had  told  her  that  he  loved  her! 
He  had  even  held  her  in  his  arms!  Cyril  tried 
not  to  exult  at  the  thought.  He  told  himself 
again  and  again  that  he  had  acted  like  a  cad; 
nevertheless  the  memory  of  that  moment  filled 
him  with  triumphant  rapture.  Had  he  lost  all 

sense  of  shame,  he  wondered.     He  tried  to  con- 

298 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          299 

sider  Anita's  situation,  his  own  situation;  but 
he  could  not.  Anita  herself  absorbed  him.  He 
could  think  neither  of  the  past  nor  of  the  future ; 
he  could  think  of  nothing  connectedly. 

The  daylight  waned  and  still  he  tramped 
steadily  onward.  Finally,  however,  his  body 
began  to  assert  itself.  His  footsteps  grew  grad- 
ually slower,  till  at  last  he  realised  that  he  was 
miles  from  home  and  that  he  was  completely 
exhausted.  Hailing  a  passing  conveyance,  he 
drove  to  his  lodgings. 

He  was  still  so  engrossed  in  his  dreams  that 
he  felt  no  surprise  at  finding  Peter  sitting  in 
the  front  ball,  nor  did  he  notice  the  dejected 
droop  of  the  latter's  shoulders. 

On  catching  sight  of  his  master,  Peter  sprang 
forward. 

"Hsh!  My  lord,"  he  whispered  with  his 
finger  on  his  lip;  and  turning  slightly,  he  cast 
an  apprehensive  glance  over  his  shoulder  to- 
wards the  top  of  the  stairs. 

With  an  effort  Cyril  shook  off  his  preoccupa- 
tion. Following  the  direction  of  his  servant's 
eyes,  he  saw  nothing  more  alarming  than  a  few 
dusty  plants  which  were  supposed  to  adorn  the 


300  Who  ? 

small  landing  where  the  stairs  turned.  Before 
he  had  time  to  form  a  conjecture  as  to  the  cause 
of  Peter's  agitation,  the  latter  continued  breath- 
lessly :  "  Her  Ladyship  'ave  arrived,  my  lord !  " 

Having  made  this  announcement,  he  stepped 
back  as  if  to  watch  what  effect  this  information 
would  have  on  his  master.  There  was  no  doubt 
that  Peter's  alarm  was  very  genuine,  yet  one 
felt  that  in  spite  of  it  he  was  enjoying  the 
dramatic  possibilities  of  the  situation. 

Cyril,  however,  only  blinked  at  him  uncom- 
prehendingly. 

"  Her  Ladyship?     What  Ladyship?  "  he  asked. 

"  Lady  Wilmersley,  my  lord,  and  she  brought 
her  baggage.  I  have  n't  known  what  to  do,  that 
I  haven't.  I  knew  she  ought  not  to  stay  here, 
but  I  could  n't  turn  'er  out,  could  I?  " 

Cyril's  mind  was  so  full  of  Anita  that  he  never 
doubted  that  it  was  she  to  whom  Peter  was  re- 
ferring, so  without  waiting  to  ask  further  ques- 
tions, he  rushed  upstairs  two  steps  at  a  time, 
and  threw  open  the  door  of  his  sitting-room. 

On  a  low  chair  in  front  of  the  fire  his  wife 
sat  reading  quietly. 

Cyril  staggered  back  as  if  he  had  been  struck. 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          301 

She,  however,  only  turned  her  head  languidly 
and  closing  her  book,  surveyed  him  with  a 
mocking  smile. 

For  a  moment  Cyril  saw  red.  His  disappoint- 
ment added  fuel  to  his  indignation. 

"  Amy !  How  dare  you  come  here?  "  he  cried, 
striding  towards  her. 

She  seemed  in  nowise  affected  by  his  anger; 
only  her  expression  became,  if  possible,  a  trifle 
more  contemptuous. 

"  Your  manners  have  sadly  deteriorated  since 
we  parted,"  she  remarked,  raising  her  eyebrows 
superciliously. 

"  Manners ! "  he  exclaimed  and  his  voice  ac- 
tually shook  with  rage.  "  May  I  ask  how  you 
expected  to  be  received?  Is  it  possible  that  you 
imagine  that  I  am  going  to  take  you  back?  " 

Her  eyes  narrowed,  but  she  still  appeared 
quite  unconcerned. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  rather  think  you  will,"  she 
drawled. 

"  Take  you  back,  now  that  you  have  tired  of 
your  lover  or  he  has  become  disgusted  with  you, 
which  is  probably  nearer  the  truth.  Do  you 
think  I  am  mad,  or  are  you?  " 


302  Who  ? 

He  fancied  that  he  saw  her  wince,  but  she 
replied  calmly: 

"  Do  not  let  us  indulge  in  mutual  recrimina- 
tions. They  are  so  futile." 

"Mutual  recriminations,  indeed!  I  like  that! 
What  have  you  to  reproach  me  with?  Didn't 
I  marry  you  to  save  you  from  disgrace  and 
penury?  Haven't  I  done  everything  I  could  to 
keep  you  straight?  " 

She  rose  slowly  from  her  seat  and  he  noticed 
for  the  first  time  that  she  wore  a  low-cut  gown 
of  some  diaphanous  material,  which  revealed  and 
yet  softened  the  too  delicate  lines  of  her  sinuous 
figure.  Her  black  hair  lay  in  thick  waves  around 
her  face,  completely  covering  the  ears,  and  wound 
in  a  coil  at  the  back  of  her  neck.  He  had  never 
seen  it  arranged  in  this  fashion  and  reluctantly 
he  had  to  admit  that  it  was  strangely  becom- 
ing to  her.  A  wide  band  of  dull  gold,  set  with 
uncut  gems,  encircled  her  head  and  added  a 
barbaric  note  to  her  exotic  beauty.  It  was  his 
last  gift  to  her,  he  remembered. 

Yes,  she  was  still  beautiful,  he  acknowledged, 
although  the  life  she  had  led,  had  left  its  marks 
upon  her.  She  looked  older  and  frailer  than 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          303 

when  lie  had  seen  her  last.  But  to-night  the 
sunken  eyes  glowed  with  extraordinary  bril- 
liancy and  a  soft  colour  gave  a  certain  roundness 
to  her  hollow  cheeks.  As  she  stood  before  him, 
Cyril  was  conscious,  for  the  first  time  in  years, 
of  the  alluring  charm  of  her  personality. 

She  regarded  him  for  a  moment,  her  full  red 
lips  parted  in  an  inscrutable  smile.  How  well 
he  recalled  that  smile!  He  could  never  fathom 
its  meaning.  In  some  mysterious  way  it  sug- 
gested infinite  possibilities.  How  he  hated 
it! 

"  You  tried  everything,  I  grant  you,"  she  said 
at  last,  "  except  the  one  thing  which  would  have 
proved  efficacious," 

"  And  what  was  that,  pray?  " 

"  You  never  loved  me." 

Her  unexpected  accusation  made  Cyril  pause. 
Yes,  it  was  true,  he  acknowledged  to  himself. 
Had  he  not  realised  it  during  the  last  few  days 
as  he  had  never  done  before? 

"  You  don't  even  take  the  trouble  to  deny  it," 
she  continued.  "You  married  me  out  of  pity 
and  instead  of  being  ashamed  of  it,  you  actually 
pride  yourself  on  the  purity  of  your  motive." 


304  Who  ? 

"  Well,  at  any  rate  I  can't  see  what  there  was 
to  be  ashamed  of,"  he  replied  indignantly. 

"Of  course  you  can't!  Oh,  how  you  good 
people  exasperate  me!  You  seem  to  lack  all 
comprehension  of  the  natural  cravings  of  a 
normal  human  being.  Pity?  What  did  I  want 
with  pity?  I  wanted  love!" 

"  It  was  not  my  fault  that  I  could  not  love 
you." 

"  No,  but  knowing  that  you  did  not  love  me, 
it  was  dastardly  of  you  to  have  married  me 
without  telling  me  the  truth.  In  doing  so,  you 
took  from  me  my  objective  in  life — you  destroyed 
my  ideals.  Oh,  don't  look  so  sceptical,  you  fool ! 
Can't  you  see  that  I  should  never  have  remained 
a  governess  until  I  was  twenty-five,  if  I  had  not 
had  ideals?  It  was  because  I  had  such  lofty 
conceptions  of  love  that  I  kept  myself  scru- 
pulously aloof  from  men,  so  that  I  might  come 
to  my  mate,  when  I  found  him,  with  soul,  mind, 
and  body  unsullied." 

She  spoke  with  such  passionate  sincerity  that 
it  was  with  an  effort  Cyril  reminded  himself 
that  her  past  had  not  been  as  blameless  as  she 
pictured  it. 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          305 

"Your  fine  ideals  did  not  prevent  you  from 
becoming  a  drunkard — "  he  remarked  drily. 

"  When  I  married,  I  was  not  a  drunkard,"  she 
vehemently  protested.  "  The  existence  I  led  was 
abhorrent  to  me,  and  it  is  true  that  occasionally 
when  I  felt  I  could  not  stand  it  another  moment, 
I  would  go  to  my  room  after  dinner  and  get 
what  comfort  I  could  out  of  alcohol;  but  what 
I  did,  I  did  deliberately  and  not  to  satisfy  an 
ungovernable  appetite.  I  was  no  more  a  drunk- 
ard than  a  woman  who  takes  a  dose  of  morphine 
during  bodily  agony  is  a  drug  fiend.  Of  course, 
my  conduct  seems  inexcusable  to  you,  for  you 
are  quite  incapable  of  understanding  the  tor- 
ture my  life  was  to  me." 

"  Other  women  have  suffered  far  greater  mis- 
fortunes and  have  borne  them  with  fortitude 
and  dignity." 

"  Look  at  me,  Cyril ;  even  now  am  I  like  other 
women?"  She  drew  herself  up  proudly.  "Was 
it  my  fault  that  I  was  born  with  beauty  that 
demanded  its  due?  Was  I  to  blame  that  my 
blood  leaped  wildly  through  my  veins,  that  my 
imagination  was  always  on  fire?  But  I  was, 
and  still  am,  instinctively  and  fundamentally  a 


306  Who  ? 

virtuous  woman.  Oh,  you  may  sneer,  but  it  is 
true!  Although  as  a  girl  I  was  starving  for 
love,  I  never  accepted  passion  as  a  substitute, 
and  you  can't  realise  how  incessantly  the  latter 
was  offered  me.  Wherever  I  went,  I  was  perse- 
cuted by  it.  At  times  I  had  a  horrible  fear  that 
desire  was  all  that  I  was  capable  of  evoking; 
and  when  you  came  to  me  in  my  misery,  pov- 
erty, and  disgrace,  I  hailed  you  as  my  king — 
my  man!  I  believed  that  you  were  offering  me 
a  love  so  great  that  it  welcomed  the  sacrifice 
of  every  minor  consideration.  It  never  occurred 
to  me  that  you  would  dare  to  ask  me  for  myself, 
my  life,  my  future,  unless  you  were  able  to  give 
me  in  exchange  something  more  than  the  mere 
luxuries  of  existence." 

"  I  also  offered  you  my  life " 

"  You  did  not !  "  she  interrupted  him.  "  You 
offered  up  your  life,  not  to  me,  but  to  your 
own  miserable  conception  of  chivalry.  The 
greatness  of  your  sacrifice  intoxicated  you 
and  consequently  it  seemed  to  you  inevitable 
that  I  also  would  spend  the  rest  of  my  days 
in  humble  contemplation  of  your  sublime 
character?  " 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          307 

"  Such  an  idea  never  occurred  to  me,"  Cyril 
angrily  objected. 

"Oh,  you  never  formulated  it  in  so  many 
words,  I  know  that !  You  are  too  self-conscious 
to  be  introspective  and  are  actually  proud  of 
the  fact  that  you  never  stop  to  analyse  either 
yourself  or  your  motives.  So  you  go  blundering 
through  life  without  in  the  least  realising  what 
are  the  influences  which  shape  your  actions. 
You  fancy  that  you  are  not  self-centred  because 
you  are  too  shy,  yes,  and  too  vain  to  probe  the 
hidden  recesses  of  your  heart.  You  imagine 
that  you  are  unselfish  because  you  make  daily 
sacrifices  to  your  own  ideal  of  conduct.  But 
of  that  utter  forgetfulness  of  self,  of  that  com- 
plete merging  and  submerging  of  your  identity 
in  another's,  you  have  never  had  even  the 
vaguest  conception.  When  you  married  me,  it 
never  occurred  to  you  that  I  had  the  right  to 
demand  both  love  and  comprehension.  You,  the 
idealist,  expected  me  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
material  advantages  you  offered;  but  I,  the  de- 
graded creature  you  take  me  to  be,  had  I  known 
the  truth,  would  never  have  consented  to  sell 
my  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage." 


308  Who  ? 

"  That  sounds  all  very  fine,  and  I  confess  I 
may  not  have  been  a  perfect  husband,  but  after 
all,  what  would  you  have  done,  I  should  like  to 
know,  if  I  had  not  married  you?  " 

"  Done?  .  I  would  have  worked  and  hoped,  and 
if  work  had  failed  me,  I  would  have  begged  and 
hoped.  I  would  even  have  starved,  before  aban- 
doning the  hope  that  some  day  I  should  find  the 
man  who  was  destined  for  me.  When  I  at  last 
realised  that  you  did  not  love  me,  you  cannot 
imagine  my  despair.  I  consumed  myself  in 
futile  efforts  to  please  you,  but  the  very  inten- 
sity of  my  love  prevented  me  from  exercising 
those  arts  and  artifices  which  might  have  brought 
you  to  my  feet.  My  emotion  in  your  presence 
was  so  great  that  it  sealed  my  lips  and  made  you 
find  me  a  dull  companion." 

"  I  never  thought  you  dull.  You  know  very 
well  that  it  was  not  that  which  alienated  me 
from  you.  When  I  married  you,  I  may  not  have 
been  what  is  called  in  love  with  you,  but  I  was 
certainly  fond  of  you,  and  if  you  had  behaved 
yourself,  I  should  no  doubt  in  time  have  become 
more  closely  united  to  you.  You  talk  of  '  con- 
suming '  yourself  to  please  me.  Nice,  effective 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          309 

word,  that!  I  must  add  it  to  my  vocabulary. 
But  you  chose  a  strange  means  of  gaining  my 
affections  when  you  took  to  disgracing  yourself 
both  privately  and  publicly." 

The  passionate  resentment  which  had  trans- 
figured her  slowly  faded  from  Amy's  face,  leav- 
ing it  drawn  and  old;  her  voice,  when  she  spoke, 
sounded  infinitely  weary. 

"  When  I  knew  for  a  certainty  that  a  luke- 
warm affection  was  all  you  would  ever  feel  for 
me,  I  lost  hope,  and  in  losing  hope,  I  lost  my 
foothold  on  life.  I  wanted  to  die — I  determined 
to  die.  Time  and  time  again,  I  pressed  your 
pistol  to  my  forehead,  but  something  stronger 
than  my  will  always  prevented  me  from  pulling 
the  trigger;  and  finally  I  sought  forgetfulness 
in  drink,  because  I  had  not  the  courage  to  find 
it  in  death.  At  first  I  tried  to  hide  my  con- 
dition from  you,  but  there  came  a  moment  when 
the  sight  of  your  bland  self-satisfaction  became 
unbearable,  when  your  absolute  unconsciousness 
of  the  havoc  you  had  made  of  my  life  maddened 
me.  I  wanted  you  to  suffer !  Oh,  not  as  I  had 
suffered,  you  are  not  capable  of  that;  but  at 
any  rate  I  could  hurt  your  vanity  and  deal  a 


310  Who? 

death-blow  to  your  pride!  You  had  disgraced 
me  when  you  tricked  me  into  giving  myself  to 
a  man  who  did  not  love  me;  I  determined  to 
disgrace  you  by  reeling  through  the  public 
streets.  And  I  was  glad,  glad !  "  she  cried  with 
indescribable  bitterness.  "  When  I  saw  you 
grow  pale  with  anger,  when  I  saw  you  tremble 
with  shame,  I  suppose  you  fancy  that  I  must, 
at  times,  have  suffered  from  remorse  and  humilia- 
tion? I  swear  that  never  for  a  moment  have  I 
regretted  the  course  I  chose.  I  am  ashamed  of 
nothing  except  that  I  lacked  the  courage  to  kill 
myself.  Drink?  I  bless  it!  How  I  welcomed 
the  gradual  deadening  of  my  senses,  the  dulling 
of  my  fevered  brain !  When  I  awoke  from  my 
long  torpor  and  found  myself  at  Charleroi,  I 
cursed  the  doctor  who  had  brought  me  back  to 
life.  Little  by  little  the  old  agony  returned. 
The  thought  of  you  haunted  me  day  and  night, 
while  a  raging  thirst  racked  my  body,  and  from 
this  twofold  torture  the  constant  supervision  of 
the  nurses  prevented  me  from  obtaining  even  a 
temporary  respite.  It  was  hell !  " 

For  a  moment  Cyril  felt  a  wave  of  pity  sweep 
over  him,  but  suddenly  he  stiffened. 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          311 

"  You  forget  to  mention  that — consolation  was 
offered  you." 

"Consolation!  Had  I  found  that,  I  should 
not  be  here!  I  admit,  however,  that  when  I 
first  noticed  that  M.  de  Brissac  was  attracted 
by  me,  I  was  mildly  pleased.  It  was  a  solace 
to  my  wounded  vanity  to  find  that  some  one 
still  found  me  desirable.  But  I  swear  that  it 
never  even  occurred  to  me  to  give  myself  to  him, 
till  the  doctor  told  me  that  you  were  coming 
to  take  me  away  with  you.  See  you  again? 
Subject  myself  anew  to  your  indifference — your 
contempt?  Never!  So  I  took  the  only  means 
of  escaping  from  you  which  offered  itself.  And 
I  am  glad,  glad  that  I  flung  myself  into  the 
mire,  for  by  defiling  love,  I  killed  it.  I  am  at 
last  free  from  the  obsession  which  has  been  the 
torment  of  my  life.  Neither  you  nor  any  other 
man  will  again  fire  my  imagination  or  stir  my 
senses.  I  am  dead,  but  I  am  also  free — free !  " 

As  she  spoke  the  last  words  her  expression 
was  so  exalted  that  Cyril  was  forced  to  grant 
her  his  grudging  admiration.  As  she  stood  be- 
fore him,  she  seemed  more  a  spirit  than  a  woman ; 
she  seemed  the  incarnation  of  life,  of  love,  of 


312  Who? 

the  very  fundamentals  of  existence.  She  was 
really  an  extraordinary  woman;  why  did  he  not 
love  her,  he  asked  himself.  But  even  as  this 
flashed  through  his  mind  the  memory  of  his  long 
martyrdom  obtruded  itself.  He  saw  her  again 
not  as  she  appeared  then,  but  as  the  central 
figure  in  a  succession  of  loathsome  scenes. 

"  Your  attempt  to  justify  yourself  may  impose 
on  others,  but  not  on  me.  I  know  you  too  well ! 
You  are  rotten  to  the  core.  What  you  term  love 
is  nothing  but  an  abnormal  craving,  which  no 
healthy-minded  man  with  his  work  in  life  to  do 
could  have  possibly  satisfied.  Our  code,  how- 
ever, is  too  different  for  me  to  discuss  the  matter 
with  you.  And  so,  if  you  have  quite  finished 
expatiating  on  my  shortcomings,  would  you 
kindly  tell  me  to  what  I  owe  the  honour  of 
your  visit?  " 

She  turned  abruptly  from  him  and  leaned  for 
a  minute  against  the  mantelpiece;  then,  sinking 
into  a  chair,  she  took  a  cigarette  from  a  box 
which  lay  on  the  table  near  her  and  proceeded 
to  light  it  with  apparent  unconcern.  Cyril,  how- 
ever, noticed  that  her  hand  trembled  violently. 
After  inhaling  a  few  puffs,  she  threw  her  head 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          313 

back  and  looked  at  him  tauntingly  from  between 
her  narrowed  lids. 

"  Because,  my  dear  Cyril,  I  read  in  yesterday's 
paper  that  your  wife  had  been  your  companion 
on  your  ill-timed  journey  from  Paris.  So  I 
thought  it  would  be  rather  amusing  to  run 
over  and  find  out  a  few  particulars  as  to  the 
young  person  who  is  masquerading  under  my 
mame." 

She  had  caught  Cyril  completely  off  his  guard 
and  he  felt  for  a  moment  incapable  of  parrying 
her  attack. 

"  I  assure  you,"  he  stuttered,  "  it  is  all  a  mis- 
take— "  He  hesitated;  he  could  think  of  no 
explanation  which  would  satisfy  her. 

"  I  expected  you  to  tell  me  that  she  was  as 
pure  as  snow ! "  she  exclaimed  with  a  scornful 
laugh.  "  But  how  you  with  your  puritanic  ideas 
managed  to  get  yourself  into  such  an  imbroglio 
passes  my  understanding.  Really,  I  consider 
that  you  owe  it  to  me,  to  satisfy  my  curiosity." 

"  I  regret  that  I  am  unable  to  do  so." 

"So  do  I!  Still,  as  I  shall  no  doubt  solve 
the  riddle  in  a  few  days,  I  can  possess  my  soul 
in  patience.  Meanwhile  I  shall  enjoy  watching 


3H  Who? 

your  efforts  to  prevent  me  from  learning  the 
truth." 

"  Unfortunately  for  you,  that  pleasure  will  be 
denied  you.  You  are  going  to  leave  this  house 
at  once  and  we  shall  not  meet  again  till  we  do 
so  before  judge  and  jury." 

Amy  settled  herself  more  comfortably  in  her 
chair. 

"  So  you  will  persist  in  trying  to  bluff  it  out? 
Foolish  Cyril!  Don't  you  realise  that  I  hold 
all  the  cards  and  that  I  am  quite  clever  enough 
to  use  them  to  the  best  advantage?  You  see, 
knowing  you  as  I  do,  I  am  convinced  that  the 
motive  which  led  you  to  sacrifice  both  truth  and 
honour  is  probably  as  praiseworthy  as  it  is 
absurd.  But  having  made  such  a  sacrifice,  why 
are  you  determined  to  render  it  useless?  I  can- 
not believe  that  you  are  willing  to  face  the  loss 
not  only  of  your  own  reputation  but  of  that  of 
the  young  person  who  has  accepted  your  pro- 
tection. How  do  you  fancy  she  would  enjoy 
figuring  as  corespondent  in  a  divorce  suit?  " 

Cyril  felt  as  if  he  were  caught  in  a  trap. 

"  My  God,"  he  cried,  "  you  would  n't  do  that ! 
I  swear  to  you  that  she  is  absolutely  innocent. 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          315 

She  was  in  a  terrible  situation  and  to  say  that 
she  was  my  wife  seemed  the  only  way  to  save 
her.  She  does  n't  even  know  I  am  married !  " 

"  Really?  And  have  you  never  considered 
that  when  she  finds  out  the  truth,  she  may  fail 
to  appreciate  the  delicacy  which  no  doubt  pre- 
vented you  from  mentioning  the  trifling  fact  of 
my  existence?  It  is  rather  funny  that  your  at- 
tempts to  rescue  forlorn  damsels  seem  doomed 
to  be  unsuccessful!  Or  were  your  motives  in 
this  case  not  quite  so  impersonal  as  I  fancied? 
Has  Launcelot  at  last  found  his  Guinevere?  If 
so,  I  may  yet  be  avenged  vicariously." 

"Your  presence  is  punishment  enough,  I  assure 
you,  for  all  the  sins  I  ever  committed!  But 
come  to  the  point.  What  exactly  is  it  that  you 
are  threatening  me  with?" 

"  Publicity,  that  is  all.  If  neither  you  nor 
this  woman  object  to  its  being  known  that  you 
travelled  together  as  man  and  wife,  then  I  am 
powerless." 

"  But  you  have  just  acknowledged  that  you 
know  that  our  relation  is  a  harmless  one,"  cried 
Cyril. 

"I  do  not  know  it— but— yes,  I  believe  it. 


316  Who? 

Do  you  think,  however,  that  any  one  else  will 
do  so?" 

"  Surely  you  would  not  be  such  a  fiend  as  to 
wreck  the  life  of  an  innocent  young  girl?  " 

"  If  her  life  is  wrecked,  whose  fault  is  it? 
Not  mine,  at  all  events.  It  was  you  who  by 
publicly  proclaiming  her  to  be  your  wife,  made 
it  impossible  for  her  disgrace  to  remain  a  secret. 
Don't  you  realise  that  even  if  I  took  no  steps 
in  the  matter,  sooner  or  later  the  truth  is  bound 
to  be  discovered?  Now  I — and  I  alone — can  save 
you  from  the  consequences  of  your  folly.  If  you 
will  agree  not  to  divorce  me,  I  promise  not  only 
to  keep  your  secret,  but  to  protect  the  good  name 
of  this  wToman  by  every  means  in  my  power." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  expect  to 
gain  by  trying  to  force  me  to  take  you  back? 
Is  it  the  title  that  you  covet,  or  do  you  long  to 
shine  in  society?  But  remember  that  in  order 
to  do  that,  you  would  have  radically  to  reform 
your  habits." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  reforming  and  I  don't 
care  a  fig  for  conventional  society ! " 

"  You  tell  me  that  you  no  longer  love  me  and 
that  you  found  existence  with  me  unsupport- 


An  Unexpected  Visitor          317 

able.  Why  then  are  you  not  willing  to  end 
it?" 

"  It  is  true,  I  no  longer  love  you,  but  while  I 
live,  no  other  woman  shall  usurp  my  place." 

"Your  place!  When  you  broke  your  mar- 
riage vows,  you  forfeited  your  right  to  a  place 
in  my  life.  But  I  will  make  a  compact  with 
you.  You  can  have  all  the  money  you  can  pos- 
sibly want  as  long  as  you  neither  do  nor  say 
anything  to  imperil  the  reputation  of  the  young 
lady  in  question." 

"All  the  wealth  in  the  world  could  not  buy 
my  silence ! " 

"  This  is  too  horrible ! "  cried  Cyril  almost 
beside  himself.  "  In  order  to  shield  a  poor  in- 
nocent child,  you  demand  that  I  sacrifice  my 
freedom,  my  future,  even  my  honour?  Have 
you  no  sense  of  justice,  no  pity?  " 

"  None.  I  have  said  my  last  word.  It  is  now 
for  you  to  decide  whether  I  am  to  go  or  stay. 
Well— which  is  it  to  be?  " 

Cyril  looked  into  her  white,  set  face;  what  he 
read  there  destroyed  his  last,  lingering  hope. 

"Stay,"  he  muttered  through  his  clenched 
teeth. 


CHAPTER  XX 


I  KNOW  IT,  COUSIN  CYRIL  " 


CYRIL  leaned  wearily  back  in  his  chair.  He 
was  in  that  state  of  apathetic  calm  which  some- 
times succeeds  a  violent  emotion.  Of  his  wife 
he  had  neither  seen  or  heard  anything  since 
they  parted  the  night  before. 

"  My  lord !  " 

Cyril  started,  for  he  had  not  noticed  Peter's 
entrance  and  the  suppressed  excitement  of  the 
latter's  manner  alarmed  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  now?  "  he  demanded. 

"  She 's  'ere,  my  lord,"  replied  Peter,  dropping 
his  voice  till  it  was  almost  a  whisper. 

Cyril  sprang  from  his  seat. 

"  Who?  "  he  cried.     "  Speak  up,  can't  you?  " 

"  The — the  young  lady,  my  lord,  as  you  took 
charge  of  on  the  train.  I  was  just  passing 

through  the  'all  as  she  came  in  and  so " 

318 


"I  Know  It,  Cousin  Cyril"       319 

"  Here?  "  exclaimed  Cyril.  "  Why  did  n't  you 
show  her  up  at  once?  " 

"  But,  my  lord,"  objected  Peter.  "  If  'er  Lady- 
ship should  'ear " 

"  Mind  your  own  business,  you  fool,  or " 


But  Peter  had  already  scuttled  out  of  the  room. 

Cyril  waited,  every  nerve  strung  to  the  highest 
tension.  Was  he  again  to  be  disappointed? 
Yet  if  his  visitor  was  really  Anita,  some  new 
misfortune  must  have  occurred!  It  seemed  to 
him  ages  before  the  door  again  opened  and  ad- 
mitted a  small,  cloaked  figure,  whose  features 
were  practically  concealed  by  a  heavy  veil.  A 
glance,  however,  sufficed  to  assure  him  that  it 
was  indeed  Anita  who  stood  before  him.  While 
Cyril  was  struggling  to  regain  his  composure, 
she  lifted  her  veil.  The  desperation  of  her  eyes 
appalled  him. 

"  My  God,  what  is  the  matter?  "  cried  Cyril, 
striding  forward  and  seizing  her  hands. 

She  gently  disengaged  herself. 

"  Lord  Wllmersley— "  Cyril  jumped  as  if  he 
had  been  shot.  "  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  I  know 
who  you  are.  I  also  know  who  I  am." 

"  But  who  told  you?  "  stuttered  Cyril. 


320  Who  ? 

"  You  did,"  she  quietly  replied. 

"I?    What  do  you  mean? " 

For  the  first  time  the  ghost  of  a  smile  hovered 
round  her  lips. 

"You  called  me  Anita!  You  didn't  know 
that,  did  you?  " 

"  Did  I  really?  What  a  blundering  fool  I 
have  been  from  first  to  last ! "  Cyril  exclaimed 
remorsefully. 

"  You  need  not  reproach  yourself.  For  some 
days  I  had  been  haunted  by  fragmentary  visions 
of  the  past  and  before  I  saw  you  yesterday,  I  was 
practically  certain  that  you  were  not  my  hus- 
band. Oh !  It  was  not  without  a  struggle  that 
I  finally  made  up  my  mind  that  you  had  de- 
ceived me.  I  told  myself  again  and  again  that 
you  were  not  the  sort  of  a  man  who  would  take 
advantage  of  an  unprotected  girl;  yet  the  more 
I  thought  about  it,  the  more  convinced  I  be- 
came that  my  suspicions  were  correct.  Then  I 
tried  to  imagine  what  reason  you  could  have 
for  posing  as  my  husband,  but  I  could  think  of 
none.  I  was  in  despair!  I  didn't  know  what 
to  do,  whom  to  turn  to;  for  if  I  could  not  trust 
you,  whom  could  I  trust?  When  I  heard  my 


"I  Know  It,  Cousin  Cyril"       321 

name,  it  was  as  if  a  dim  light  suddenly  flooded 
my  brain.  I  knew  who  I  was.  I  remembered 
leaving  Geralton,  but  little  by  little  I  realised 
with  dismay  that  I  was  still  completely  in  the 
dark  as  to  who  you  were,  why  you  had  come 
into  my  life.  It  seemed  to  me  that  if  I  could 
not  discover  the  truth,  I  should  go  mad.  Then 
I  decided  to  appeal  to  Miss  Trevor.  She  was 
a  woman.  She  looked  kind.  She  would  tell 
me!  I  was  somehow  convinced  that  she  did  not 
know  who  I  was,  but  I  said  to  myself  that  she 
would  certainly  have  heard  of  my  disappear- 
ance, for  I  could  not  believe  that  Arthur  had 
allowed  me  to  go  out  of  his  life  without  moving 
heaven  and  earth  to  find  me." 

"  You  did  not  know ?  " 

Anita  shook  her  head. 

"  No ;  it  was  Miss  Trevor  who  told  me  that 
Arthur  was  dead — that  he  had  been  murdered." 
She  shuddered  convulsively.  "You  see,"  she 
added  with  pathetic  humility,  "there  are  still 
so  many  things  I  do  not  remember.  Even  now 
I  can  hardly  believe  that  I,  I  of  all  people, 
killed  my  husband."  Great  tears  coursed  slowly 
down  her  cheeks. 


322  Who  ? 

Cyril  ached  for  pity  of  her. 

"  Why  take  it  for  granted  that  you  did?  "  he 
suggested,  partly  from  a  desire  to  comfort  her, 
but  also  because  there  really  lingered  a  doubt 
in  his  mind. 

"  Do  you  suspect  any  one  else?  "  she  cried. 

"  Not  at  present,  but " 

She  threw  up  her  hands  with  a  gesture  of 
despair.  "  No,  of  course  not.  I  must  have 
killed  him.  But  I  never  meant  to — you  will 
believe  that,  won't  you?  Those  doctors  were 
right,  I  must  have  been  insane ! " 

"  I  am  sure  you  were  not.  Arthur  only  in- 
tended to  frighten  you  by  sending  for  those 
men." 

"  But  if  I  was  not  crazy,  why  can  I  remember 
so  little  of  what  took  place  on  that  dreadful 
night  and  for  some  time  afterwards?  " 

"  I  am  told  that  a  severe  shock  often  has  that 
effect,"  replied  Cyril.  "  But,  oh,  how  I  wish 
you  could  answer  a  few  questions!  I  don't 
want  to  raise  your  hopes ;  but  there  is  one  thing 
that  has  always  puzzled  me  and  till  that  is  ex- 
plained I  for  one  shall  always  doubt  whether 
it  was  you  who  killed  Arthur." 


"I  Know  It,  Cousin  Cyril"       323 

Again  the  eager  light  leaped  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  tell  me  quickly  what — what  makes  you 
think  that  I  may  not  have  done  so?  " 

Cyril  contemplated  her  a  moment  in  silence. 
He  longed  to  pursue  the  topic,  but  was  fearful 
of  the  effect  it  might  have  on  her. 

"  Yet  now  that  she  knows  the  worst,  it  may 
be  a  relief  to  her  to  talk  about  it,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  Yes,  I  will  risk  it,"  he  finally  decided. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  you  put  a  drug  in 
Arthur's  coffee?  "  he  asked  out  loud. 

"  Yes,  perfectly." 

"  Then  you  must  have  expected  to  make  your 
escape  before  he  regained  consciousness." 

"  Yes — yes !  " 

"Then  why  did  you  arm  yourself  with  a 
pistol?  " 

"  I  did  n't!     I  had  no  pistol." 

"  But  if  you  shot  Arthur,  you  must  have  had 
a  pistol." 

She  stared  at  Cyril  in  evident  bewilderment. 

"  I  could  have  sworn  I  had  no  pistol." 

Cyril  tried  to  control  his  rising  excitement. 
"  You  knew,  however,  that  Arthur  owned  one?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  never  knew  where  he  kept  it." 


324  Who  ? 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  not  forgotten " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  interrupted  him.  "  My  mem- 
ory is  perfectly  clear  up  to  the  time  when 
Arthur  seized  me  and  threw  me  on  the  floor." 

"  After  that  you  remember  nothing?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  a  vague  recollection  of  a  long 
walk  through  the  dark — of  a  train — of  you — of 
policemen.  But  everything  is  so  confused  that 
I  can  be  sure  of  nothing." 

Cyril  paced  the  room  deep  in  thought. 

"  It  seems  to  me  incredible,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  that  if  you  did  not  even  know  where  to  look 
for  a  pistol,  you  should  have  found  it,  to  say 
nothing  of  having  been  able  to  use  it,  while  you 
were  being  beaten  into  unconsciousness  by  that 
brute." 

But  Anita  only  shook  her  head  hopelessly. 

"  It  is  extraordinary,  and  yet  I  must  have  done 
so.  For  it  has  been  proved,  has  it  not,  that 
Arthur  and  I  were  absolutely  alone?  " 

"  Certainly  not !  How  can  we  be  sure  that 
some  one  was  not  concealed  in  the  room  or  did 
not  climb  in  through  the  window  or — why,  there 
are  a  thousand  possibilities  which  can  never  be 
proved ! " 


"I  Know  It,  Cousin  Cyril"       325 

"  Ah ! "  she  exclaimed,  her  whole  body  trem- 
bling with  eagerness.  "  I  now  remember  that  I 
had  put  all  my  jewels  in  a  bag,  and  as  that  has 
disappeared,  a  burglar — "  But  as  she  scanned 
Cyril's  face,  she  paused. 

"  You  had  the  bag  witlj  you  at  the  nursing 
home.  The  jewels  are  safe,"  he  said  very  gently. 

"  Then,"  she  cried,  "  it  is  useless  trying  to 
deceive  ourselves  any  longer — I  killed  Arthur 
and  must  face  the  consequences." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  have  decided  to  give  myself  up." 

"You  shall  not!  I  will  not  allow  it!"  he 
cried. 

"But  don't  you  see  that  I  can't  spend  the 
rest  of  my  life  in  hiding?  Think  what  it  would 
mean  to  live  in  daily,  hourly  dread  of  exposure? 
Why,  death  would  be  preferable  to  that." 

"Oh,  you  would  be  acquitted.  There  is  no 
doubt  of  that.  That  is  not  what  I  am  afraid 
of.  But  the  idea  of  you,  Anita,  in  prison.  Why, 
it  is  out  of  the  question.  A  week  of  it  would 

kill  you." 

"  And  if  it  did,  what  of  it?    What  has  life 

to  offer  me  now?  " 


326  Who  ? 

"  Give  me  time.  I  will  find  some  way  of 
saving  you.  I  will  do  anything — everything." 

"  There  is  nothing  you  can  do,"  she  said,  lay- 
ing her  hand  gently  on  his  arm.  "  You  have 
already  risked  too  much.  Oh,  I  can  never  thank 
you  enough  for  all  your  goodness  to  me!  " 

"  Don't — don't — I  would  gladly  give  my  life 
for  you ! " 

"I  know  it,  Cousin  Cyril,"  she  murmured,  with 
downcast  eyes.  A  wave  of  colour  swept  for  a 
moment  over  her  face. 

Cyril  shivered.  With  a  mighty  effort  he  strove 
to  regain  his  composure.  Cousin  Cyril!  Yes, 
that  was  what  he  was  to  her — that  was  all  he 
could  ever  be  to  her. 

"  I  know  how  noble,  how  unselfish  you  are," 
she  continued,  lifting  her  brimming  eyes  to  his. 
"  But  your  life  is  not  your  own.  We  must  both 
remember  that." 

"Both?    Anita,  is  it  possible  that  you " 

"  Hush !  I  have  said  too  much.  Let  me  go," 
she  cried,  for  Cyril  had  seized  her  hand  and 
was  covering  it  with  kisses. 

At  this  moment  the  door-handle  rattled.  Cyril 
and  Anita  moved  hurriedly  away  from  each  other. 


"I  Know  It,  Cousin  Cyril"       327 

"  Inspector  Griggs  is  'ere,  my  lord." 

Peter's  face  had  resumed  its  usual  stolid  ex- 
pression. He  appeared  not  to  notice  that  his 
master  and  the  latter's  guest  were  standing  in 
strained  attitudes  at  opposite  ends  of  the  room. 

"  I  can't  see  him."  Cyril  motioned  Peter 
impatiently  away. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  see  the  inspector? "  ex- 
claimed Anita.  "  This  is  the  best  time  for  me 
to  give  myself  up." 

"  No,  no !     I  have  a  plan 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  reappearance  of 
Peter. 

"  The  inspector  is  very  sorry,  my  lord,  but 
he  has  to  see  you  at  once,  'e  says." 

"  I  can't,"  began  Cyril. 

"It  is  no  use  putting  it  off,"  Anita  said 
firmly.  "  I  insist  on  your  seeing  him.  If  you 
don't,  I  shall  go  down  and  speak  to  him  myself." 

Cyril  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  could  not 
argue  with  her  before  Peter.  So  turning  to  the 
latter,  he  said: 

"  You  can  bring  him  up  in  ten  minutes— not 
before.  You  understand?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 


328  Who  ? 

"  Anita,"  implored  Cyril,  as  soon  as  they  were 
again  alone,  "  I  beg  you  not  to  do  this  thing. 
If  a  plan  that  I  have  in  mind  succeeds,  you  will 
be  able  to  leave  the  country  and  begin  life  again 
under  another  name." 

She  hesitated  a  moment. 

"What  is  this  plan?" 

He  outlined  it  briefly. 

She  listened  attentively,  but  when  he  had 
finished  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  will  not  allow  you  to  attempt  it.  If  your 
fraud  were  discovered — and  it  would  surely  be 
discovered — your  life  would  be  ruined." 

"  No — "  he  began. 

"  I  tell  you  I  will  not  hear  of  it.  No,  I  am 
determined  to  end  this  horrible  suspense.  Call 
the  inspector." 

"  I  entreat  you  at  all  events  to  wait  a  little 
while  longer." 

"  No,  no !  " 

Cyril  was  almost  frantic.  The  minutes  were 
slipping  past.  Was  there  nothing  he  could  say 
to  turn  her  from  her  purpose? 

"  My  wTife  is  here.  If  she  should  hear,  if  she 
should  know — "  he  began  tentatively. 


"I  Know  It,  Cousin  Cyril"       329 

He  was  amazed  at  the  effect  of  his  words. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  that  she  was  here?  " 
exclaimed  Anita  with  flashing  eyes.  "  Of  course, 
I  have  n't  the  slightest  intention  of  involving 
her  in  my  affairs.  I  will  go  at  once." 

"  But  you  can't  leave  the  house  without  Griggs 
seeing  you,  and  he  would  certainly  guess  who 
you  are.  Stay  in  the  next  room  till  he  is  gone, 
that  is  all  I  ask  of  you.  Here,  quick,  I  hear 
footsteps  on  the  stairs." 

Cyril  had  hardly  time  to  fling  himself  into  a 
chair  before  the  inspector  was  announced. 


THE    TRUTH 

"  GOOD-MORNING,  my  lord.  Bather  early  to 
disturb  you,  I  am  afraid." 

Cyril  noticed  that  Griggs's  manner  had  un- 
dergone a  subtle  change.  Although  perfectly 
respectful,  he  seemed  to  hold  himself  rigidly 
aloof.  There  was  even  a  certain  solemnity  about 
his  trivial  greeting.  Cyril  felt  that  another 
blow  was  impending.  Instantly  and  instinctively 
he  braced  himself  to  meet  it. 

"Not  at  all.  What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he 
replied  in  his  usual  quiet  voice. 

The  man  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  lord,  I  should  like  to  ask 
you  a  few  questions,  but  I  warn  you  that  your 
answers  may  be  used  against  you." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  fear.     What  is  it  you  want 

to  know?  " 

330 


The  Truth  331 

"  Have  you  missed  a  bag,  my  lord?  " 

"  That  confounded  bag!  It  has  turned  up  at 
last,"  thought  Cyril.  What  on  earth  should  he 
say?  How  much  did  the  fellow  guess? 

"  You  had  better  ask  my  man.  He  knows 
more  about  my  things  than  I  do,"  he  managed 
to  answer,  as  he  lifted  a  perfectly  expressionless 
face  to  Griggs's  inspection. 

"  Quite  so,  my  lord.  But  I  fancy  that  as  far 
as  this  particular  bag  is  concerned,  that  is  not 
the  case." 

"  Why  not?  " 

"  Because  I  do  not  see  what  reason  he  could 
have  had  for  hiding  one  of  his  master's  bags  up 
the  chimney." 

"  So  the  bag  was  found  up  the  chimney? 
Will  you  tell  me  what  motive  I  am  supposed  to 
have  had  for  wishing  to  conceal  it?  Is  there 
anything  remarkable  about  it?  Did  it  contain 
anything  you  thought  I  might  want  to  get  rid 
of?" 

The  inspector  eyed  him  narrowly. 

"  It 's  no  use,  my  lord.  We  know  that  Pris- 
cilla  Prentice  bought  this  bag  a  fortnight  ago 
in  Newhaven.  Now,  if  you  are  able  to  explain 


332  Who  ? 

how  it  came  into  your  possession,  I  would 
strongly  advise  your  doing  so." 

Still  Cyril  did  not  flinch. 

"  I  have  never  to  my  knowledge  laid  eyes  on 
the  girl,  and  I  cannot,  therefore,  believe  that  a 
bag  of  hers  has  been  found  here." 

"  We  can  prove  it,"  replied  the  inspector. 
"  The  maker's  name  is  inside  and  the  man  who 
sold  it  to  her  is  willing  to  swear  that  it  is  the 
identical  bag.  One  of  our  men  has  made  friends 
with  your  chamber-maid  and  she  confessed  that 
she  had  discovered  it  stuffed  up  the  chimney  in 
your  bedroom.  She  is  a  stupid  girl  and  thought 
you  had  thrown  it  away,  so  she  took  it.  Only 
afterwards,  it  occurred  to  her  that  you  had  a 
purpose  in  placing  the  bag  where  she  had  found 
it  and  she  was  going  to  return  it  when  my  man 
prevented  her  from  doing  so." 

"  Very  remarkable !  It  all  fits  together  like 
clock-work.  I  congratulate  you,  Inspector,"  said 
Cyril,  trying  to  speak  superciliously.  "  But  you 
omitted  to  mention  the  most  important  link  in 
the  chain  of  evidence  you  have  so  cleverly  forged 
against  me,"  he  continued.  "  How  am  I  sup- 
posed to  have  got  hold  of  this  bag?  I  did  not 


The  Truth  333 

stop  in  Newhaven  and  you  have  had  me  so 
closely  watched  that  you  must  know  that  since 
my  arrival  in  England  I  have  met  no  one  who 
could  have  given  it  to  me." 

"  No,  my  lord,  we  are  by  no  means  sure  of 
this.  Quite  the  contrary.  It  is  true  that  we 
have,  so  to  speak,  kept  an  eye  on  you,  but,  till 
yesterday,  we  had  no  reason  to  suspect  that  you 
had  any  connection  with  the  murder,  so  we  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  have  you  closely 
followed.  There  have  been  hours  when  we  have 
had  no  idea  where  you  were." 

"  You  surprise  me !  " 

"  It  is  quite  possible,"  continued  the  inspector 
without  heeding  Cyril's  interruption,  "  that  you 
have  met  either  Prentice  or  Lady  Wilmersley, 
the  dowager,  I  mean." 

"Really!  And  why  should  they  have  given 
this  bag  to  me,  of  all  people?  Surely  you 
must  see  that  they  could  have  found  many 
easier,  as  well  as  safer,  ways  of  disposing  of 
it" 

"Quite  so,  my  lord,  and  that  is  why  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  it  was  not  through  either 
of  them  that  the  bag  came  into  your  possession. 


334  Who  ? 

I  think  it  more  probable  that  her  Ladyship 
brought  it  with  her." 

"Her  Ladyship?  What  do  you  mean?" 
Cyril's  voice  grew  suddenly  harsh. 

"  You  told  me  yourself  that  her  Ladyship  met 
you  in  Newhaven;  that,  in  fact,  she  had  spent 
the  night  of  the  murder  there." 

Cyril  clutched  the  table  convulsively. 

Amy!  They  suspected  Amy.  This  was  too 
horrible!  Why  had  it  never  occurred  to  him 
that  his  lies  might  involve  an  innocent  person? 

"  But  this  is  absurd,  you  know,"  he  stam- 
mered, in  a  futile  effort  to  gain  time. 

"  Let  us  hope  so,  my  lord." 

"  There  has  been  a  terrible  mistake,  I  tell  you." 

"In  that  case  her  Ladyship  can  no  doubt  easily 
explain  it." 

"  Her  Ladyship  is  ill.  She  cannot  be  dis- 
turbed." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  cannot  be  avoided.  I  must 
see  her  at  once.  But  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  not 
question  her  till  she  has  been  examined  by  our 
doctors." 

Cyril  rose  and  moved  automatically  towards 
the  door. 


The  Truth  335 

The  inspector  stepped  forward. 

"  Sorry,  my  lord,  but  for  the  present  you  can 
see  her  Ladyship  only  before  witnesses.  May  I 
ring  the  bell?  " 

"  What  is  the  use  of  asking  my  permission? 
You  are  master  here,  so  it  seems,"  exclaimed 
Cyril.  His  nerves  were  at  last  getting  beyond 
his  control. 

"  I  am  only  doing  my  duty  and  I  assure  you 
that  I  want  to  cause  as  little  unpleasantness  as 
possible." 

A  servant  appeared. 

The  inspector  remained  discreetly  in  the  back- 
ground. 

"  Ask  her  Ladyship  please  to  come  here  as 
soon  as  she  can  get  ready.  If  she  is  asleep,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  wake  her." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord." 

The  two  men  sat  facing  each  other  in  silence. 

Cyril  was  hardly  conscious  of  the  other's  pres- 
ence. He  must  think;  he  knew  he  must  think; 
but  his  brain  seemed  paralysed.  There  must  be 
a  way  of  clearing  his  wife  without  casting  sus- 
picion on  Anita.  Yet  he  could  think  of  none. 
Was  it  possible  that  he  was  now  called  upon 


336  Who  ? 

to  choose  between  the  woman  he  hated  and  the 
woman  he  loved,  between  honour  and  dishonour? 
No,  there  must  be  a  middle  course.  Time  would 
surely  solve  the  difficulty. 

The  door  opened  and  Amy  came  slowly  into 
the  room.  She  looked  desperately  ill. 

She  was  wrapped  in  a  red  velvet  dressing-gown 
and  its  warm  colour  contrasted  painfully  writh 
the  greyness  of  her  face  and  lips.  On  catching 
sight  of  the  inspector,  she  started,  but  control- 
ling herself  with  an  obvious  effort,  she  turned 
to  her  husband. 

"  You  wish  to  speak  to  me?  " 

"  You  can  see  for  yoursef,  Inspector,  that  her 
Ladyship  is  in  no  condition  to  be  questioned," 
remonstrated  Cyril,  moving  quickly  to  his  wife's 
side. 

"  Just  as  you  say,  my  lord,  but  in  that  case 
her  Ladyship  had  better  finish  her  dressing.  It 
will  be  necessary  for  her  to  accompany  me  to 
headquarters." 

"  I  will  not  allow  it,"  cried  Cyril,  almost  be- 
side himself  and  throwing  a  protecting  arm 
around  Amy's  shoulders. 

Her  bloodshot  eyes  rested  a  moment  on  her 


The  Truth  337 

husband,  then  gently  disengaging  herself,  she 
drew  herself  to  her  full  height  and  faced  the 
inspector. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  You  need  not  try  to 
spare  me." 

"  His  Lordship " 

"  Do  not  listen  to  his  Lordship.  It  is  I  who 
demand  to  be  told  the  truth." 

"  Amy,  I  beg  you — "  interposed  Cyril. 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried,  shaking  off  her  husband's 
hand.  "  Let  me  know  the  worst.  Don't  you  see 
that  you  are  torturing  me?  " 

"  There  has  been  a  mistake.  It  is  all  my 
fault,"  began  Cyril. 

She  silenced  him  with  an  imperious  gesture. 

"  I  am  waiting  to  hear  what  the  inspector  has 
to  say." 

Griggs  cast  a  questioning  look  at  Cyril,  which 
the  latter  answered  by  a  helpless  shrug. 

"  A  bag  has  been  found  in  his  Lordship's 
chimney,  which  was  lately  purchased  in  New- 
haven.  Do  you  know  how  it  got  there?  But 
perhaps  before  answering,  you  may  wish  to 
consult  your  legal  adviser." 

She  cast  a  quick  glance  at  her  husband. 


338  Who  ? 

"  I  will  neither  acknowledge  nor  deny  any- 
thing until  I  have  seen  this  bag  and  know  of 
what  I  am  accused,"  she  answered  after  a  barely 
perceptible  pause. 

Griggs  opened  the  door  and  called : 

"  Jones,  the  bag,  please." 

The  inspector  handed  it  to  Amy. 

She  looked  at  it  for  a  moment,  Cyril  watched 
her  breathlessly.  What  would  she  say?  Had  the 
moment  come  when  he  must  proclaim  the  truth? 

"  Am  I  supposed  to  have  bought  this  bag?  " 
she  asked. 

"  No,  my  lady.  It  was  sold  to  Prentice,  who 
was  sempstress  at  Geralton  and  we  believe  it  is 
the  one  in  which  Lady  Wilmersley  carried  off 
her  jewels." 

Amy  gave  a  muffled  exclamation,  but  almost 
instantly  she  regained  her  composure. 

"  If  that  is  so,  how  do  you  connect  me  with 
it?  Because  it  happens  to  have  been  found  here, 
do  you  accuse  me  of  having  robbed  my  cousin?  " 

"  No,  my  lady,  but  as  you  spent  the  night  of 
the  murder  in  Newhaven " 

To  Cyril's  surprise  she  shuddered  from  head 
to  foot, 


The  Truth  339 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried,  stretching  out  her  hands 
as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  It  is  useless  to  deny  it.  His  Lordship  him- 
self told  me  that  you  had  joined  him  there." 

"  I  lied !  It  was  not  her  Ladyship  who  was 
with  me.  Her  Ladyship  was  in  Paris  at  the 
time.  I  swear  it  on  my  honour.  The  bag  is 
— is  mine.  You  can  arrest  me.  I  am  guilty." 
Thank  God,  thought  Cyril,  he  had  at  last  found 
a  way  of  saving  both  his  love  and  his  honour. 

"  Guilty  of  what,  my  lord?  Of  a  murder 
which  was  committed  while  you  were  still  in 
France — "  asked  Griggs,  lifting  his  eyebrows 
incredulously. 

"  Yes !  I  mean  I  instigated  it — I  hated  my 
cousin — I  needed  the  money,  so  I  hired  an  ac- 
complice. He  bungled  things.  I  give  myself 
up.  I  confess.  What  more  do  you  want? " 
cried  Cyril. 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  lord.  Of  course,  if  you  in- 
sist upon  it,  I  shall  have  to  arrest  you,  but  I 
don't  believe  you  had  anything  more  to  do  with 
the  murder  than  I  had,  and  I  would  stake  my 
reputation  on  your  being  as  straight  a  gentle- 
man as  I  ever  met  professionally.  Wait  a  bit, 


34°  Who  ? 

my  lord,  don't  be  'asty."  In  his  excitement 
Griggs  dropped  one  of  his  carefully  guarded 
aitches. 

The  door  opened. 

"  Mr.  Campbell,  my  lord." 

"  Guy,"  exclaimed  Cyril.  "  You  have  arrived 
in  the  nick  of  time.  I  have  confessed." 

"  Confessed  what?  "  Campbell  cast  a  bewil- 
dered look  at  the  inspector. 

"  His  Lordship  says  that  he  hired  an  assassin 
to  murder  Lord  Wilmersley." 

"  What  rot !    You  don't  believe  him,  I  hope?  " 

"  He  shall  believe  me,"  cried  Cyril.  "  I  alone 
am  responsible  for  Wilmersley 's  death.  The 
person  who  actually  fired  the  shot  was  nothing 
but  my  tool.  I  will  never  betray  him,  never !  " 

"  Honour  among  murderers,  I  see !  Really, 
Cyril,  you  are  too  ridiculous,"  exclaimed 
Campbell. 

Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  Amy,  cowering 
in  the  shadow  of  the  curtain. 

"  Who  is  this  lady?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  wife !  Look  after  her.  Look  after  every- 
thing." Cyril  gave  Guy  a  look  in  which  he  tried 
to  convey  all  that  he  did  not  dare  to  say. 


The  Truth  341 

The  door  again  opened. 

"  Mr.  Judson  is  'ere,  my  lord.  I  told  him  you 
were  engaged,  but  he  says  he  would  like  to  speak 
to  you  most  particular." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  began  Cyril. 

"  Don't  be  a  greater  fool  than  you  can  help," 
exclaimed  Campbell.  "  How  do  you  know  that 
he  has  not  some  important  news?  " 

"  But—"  objected  Cyril. 

"  Good  morning,  your  Lordship.  How  do  you 
do,  Inspector.  Mr.  Campbell,  I  believe.  Your 
servant,  your  Ladyship.  I  took  the  liberty  of 
forcing  myself  upon  you  at  this  moment,  my 
lord,  because  I  have  just  learnt  certain  facts 
which " 

"  It  is  too  late  to  report,"  interposed  Cyril 
hastily.  "  I  have  confessed." 

The  detective  smiled  indulgently. 

"  Why,  my  lord,  what  is  the  use  of  pretending 
that  you  had  anything  to  do  with  the  murder? 
I  hurried  here  to  tell  you  that  there  is  no  further 
need  of  your  sacrificing  yourself.  I  have  found 
out  who " 

"  Shut  up,  I  say.  I  did  it.  It 's  none  of  your 
business  anyhow ! "  cried  Cyril  incoherently. 


342  Who  ? 

"  Don't  listen  to  his  Lordship,"  said  Amy. 
"  We  all  know,  of  course,  that  he  is  perfectly  in- 
nocent. He  is  trying  to  shield  some  one.  But 
who?  "  She  cast  a  keen  look  at  Cyril. 

"  That 's  just  it,"  Judson  agreed.  "  And  it  is 
partly  my  fault.  I  convinced  his  Lordship  that 
Lord  Wilmersley  was  murdered  by  his  wife.  I 
have  come  here  to  tell  him  that  I  was  mis- 
taken. It  is  lucky  that  I  discovered  the  truth 
in  time." 

"  Thank  God !  "  cried  Cyril.  "  I  always  knew 
she  was  innocent."  His  relief  was  so  intense 
that  it  robbed  him  of  all  power  of  concealment. 

Amy's  mouth  hardened  into  a  straight,  in- 
flexible line;  her  eyes  narrowed. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  have  some  fact  to  sup- 
port your  extraordinary  assertion?"  demanded 
Griggs,  unable  to  hide  his  vexation  at  finding 
that  his  rival  had  evidently  outwitted  him. 

"  Certainly,  but  I  will  say  no  more  till  I  have 
his  Lordship's  permission.  He  is  my  employer, 
you  know." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make? "  asked 
Cyril.  "  I  am  more  anxious  than  any  one  to 
discover  the  truth." 


The  Truth  343 

"  Permit  me  to  suggest,  my  lord,  that  it  would 
be  better  if  I  could  first  speak  to  you  in  private." 

"Nonsense,"  exclaimed  Cyril  impatiently. 
"  I  am  tired  of  this  eternal  secrecy.  Tell  us 
what  you  have  found  out." 

The  detective's  brows  contracted  slightly. 

"  Very  well,  only  remember,  I  warned  you." 

"  That 's  all  right." 

"  Have  you  forgotten,  my  lord,  that  I  told  you 
I  always  had  an  idea  that  those  two  Frenchmen 
who  were  staying  at  the  Red  Lion  Inn,  were 
somehow  implicated  in  the  affair?  " 

"  But  what  possible  motive  could  they  have 
had  for  murdering  my  cousin?  "  demanded  Cyril. 

The  detective's  eyes  appeared  to  wander  aim- 
lessly from  one  of  his  auditors  to  another. 

"  We  are  waiting.  What  about  those  French- 
men? " 

It  was  Amy  who  spoke.  She  moved  slowly 
forward,  and  leaning  her  arm  on  the  mantel- 
piece confronted  the  four  men. 

"  You  wish  me  to  continue?  "  asked  Judson. 

"  Certainly.     Why  not?  " 

The  detective  inclined  his  head  and  again 
turned  towards  Cyril. 


344  Who  ? 

"  Having  once  discovered  their  identity,  my 
lord,  their  motive  was  quite  apparent." 

"  Well,  who  are  they?    Out  with  it." 

"  The  elder,"  began  Judson,  speaking  very 
slowly,  "  is  Monsieur  de  Brissac.  The 
younger—  '  he  paused. 

For  a  moment  Cyril  was  too  stunned  to  speak. 
He  could  do  nothing  but  stare  stupidly  at  the 
detective.  Amy  guilty !  Amy !  It  was  incredible ! 

"  Stop !  Your  suspicions  are  absurd !  Do  not 
listen  to  him,  Inspector ! "  He  hardly  knew 
what  he  was  saying.  He  only  realised  con- 
fusedly that  something  within  him  was  crying 
to  him  to  save  her. 

A  wonderful  light  suddenly  transfigured 
Amy's  drawn  face. 

"  Cyril,  would  you  really  do  this  for " 

"  Hush  !  "     He  tried  to  silence  her. 

She  turned  proudly  to  the  inspector. 

"  I  don't  care  now  who  knows  the  truth.  I 
killed  Lord  Wilmersley." 

"  Don't  listen  to  her !  Don't  you  see  that  she 
is  not  accountable  for  what  she  is  saying?  "  cried 
Cyril.  He  had  forgotten  everything  but  that  she 
was  a  woman — his  wife. 


The  Truth  345 

"  I  killed  Lord  Wilmersley,"  Amy  repeated,  as 
if  he  had  not  spoken,  "  but  I  did  not  murder  him." 

"  Does  your  Ladyship  expect  us  to  believe  that 
you  happened  to  call  at  the  castle  at  half-past 
ten  in  the  evening,  and  that  during  an  amicable 
conversation  you  accidentally  shot  Lord  Wilmer- 
sley? "  demanded  Griggs. 

"  No,"  replied  Amy  contemptuously,  "  of 
course  not!  I — "  She  hesitated. 

"  If  your  Ladyship  had  not  ulterior  purpose 
in  going  to  Newhaven,  why  did  you  disguise 
yourself  as  a  boy  and  live  there  under  an  as- 
sumed name?  And  who  is  this  Frenchman  who 
posed  as  your  brother?  " 

Amy  threw  her  head  back  defiantly.  A  faint 
colour  swept  over  her  face. 

"  Monsieur  de  Brissac  was  my  lover.  When 
we  discovered  that  his  Lordship  was  employing 
detectives,  we  went  to  Newhaven,  because  we 
thought  that  it  was  the  last  place  where  they 
would  be  likely  to  look  for  us.  I  disguised  my- 
self to  throw  them  off  the  scent." 

"  But  the  description  the  inspector  gave  me 
of  the  boy  did  not  resemble  you  in  the  least," 
insisted  Cyril. 


346  Who  ? 

"  It  was  I  nevertheless.  I  merely  cut  off  my 
hair  and  dyed  it.  See ! "  She  snatched  the 
black  wig  from  her  head,  disclosing  a  short  crop 
of  reddish  curls. 

"  You  have  yet  to  explain,"  resumed  the  in- 
spector sternly,  "  what  took  you  to  Geralton  in 
the  middle  of  the  night.  Under  the  circum- 
stances I  should  have  thought  your  Ladyship 
would  hardly  have  cared  to  visit  his  Lordship's 
relations." 

Ignoring  Griggs,  Amy  turned  to  her  husband. 

"  My  going  there  was  the  purest  accident,"  she 
began  in  a  dull,  monotonous  voice,  almost  as  if 
she  were  reciting  a  lesson,  but  as  she  proceeded, 
her  excitement  increased  till  finally  she  became 
so  absorbed  in  her  story  that  she  appeared  to 
forget  her  hearers  completely.  "  I  was  horribly 
restless,  so  we  spent  most  of  our  time  motoring 
and  often  stayed  out  very  late.  One  night  a 
tire  burst.  I  noticed  that  we  had  stopped 
within  a  short  walk  of  the  castle.  As  I  had 
never  seen  it  except  at  a  distance,  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  would  like  to  have  a  nearer  view  of 
the  place.  In  my  boy's  clothes  I  found  it  fairly 
easy  to  climb  the  low  wall  which  separates  the 


The  Truth  347 

gardens  from  the  park.  Not  a  light  was  to  be 
seen,  so,  as  there  seemed  no  danger  of  my  being 
discovered,  I  ventured  on  to  the  terrace.  As  I 
stood  there,  I  heard  a  faint  cry.  My  first  im- 
pulse was  to  retrace  my  footsteps  as  quickly  as 
possible,  but  when  I  realised  that  it  was  a  woman 
who  was  crying  for  help,  I  felt  that  I  must  find 
out  what  was  the  matter.  Running  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  the  sound  came,  I  turned  a 
corner  and  found  myself  confronted  by  a  lighted 
window.  The  shrieks  were  now  positively  blood- 
curdling and  there  was  no  doubt  in  my  mind 
that  some  poor  creature  was  being  done  to  death 
only  a  few  feet  away  from  me.  The  window  was 
high  above  my  head,  but  I  was  determined  to 
reach  it.  After  several  unsuccessful  attempts  I 
managed  to  gain  a  foothold  on  the  uneven  sur- 
face of  the  wall  and  hoist  myself  on  to  the  window- 
sill.  Luckily  the  window  was  partially  open,  so  I 
was  able  to  slip  noiselessly  into  the  room 
and  hide  behind  the  curtain.  Peering  through 
the  folds,  I  saw  a  woman  lying  on  the  floor. 
Her  bodice  was  torn  open,  exposing  her  bare 
back.  Over  her  stood  a  man  who  was  beating 
her  with  a  piece  of  cord  which  was  attached 


348  Who  ? 

to  the  waist  of  a  sort  of  Eastern  dressing-gown 
he  wore. 

" l  So  you  thought  you  would  leave  me,  did 
you? '  he  cried  over  and  over  again  as  the 
lash  fell  faster  and  faster.  '  Well,  you  won't ! 
Not  till  I  send  you  to  hell,  which  I  will  some 
day.' 

"  At  last  he  paused  and  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow.  He  was  very  fat  and  his  exer- 
tions were  evidently  telling  on  him. 

"'Why  shouldn't  I  kill  you  now?  I  have 
my  pistol  within  reach  of  my  hand.  It  is  here 
on  my  desk.  Ah,  you  did  n't  know  that,  did 
you?  '  He  gave  a  fiendish  laugh. 

"  The  woman  shuddered  but  made  no  attempt 
to  rise. 

"  I  was  slowly  recovering  from  the  terror 
which  had  at  first  paralysed  me.  I  realised  I 
must  act  at  once  if  I  meant  to  save  Lady  Wil- 
mersley's  life.  The  desk  was  behind  him. 

"  Dropping  on  my  hands  and  knees,  I  crept 
cautiously  toward  it.  '  Kill  you,  kill  you,  that 
is  what  I  ought  to  do,'  he  kept  repeating. 

"  I  reached  the  desk.  No  pistol  was  to  be 
seen;  yet  I  knew  it  was  there.  As  I  fumbled 


The  Truth  349 

among  his  papers,  my  hand  touched  an  ancient 
steel  gauntlet.  Some  instinct  told  me  that  I 
had  found  what  I  sought.  But  how  to  open  it 
was  the  question.  Some  agonising  moments 
passed  before  I  at  last  accidentally  pressed  the 
spring  and  a  pistol  lay  in  my  hand. 

"  He  again  raised  the  cord. 

"'Stop!'  I  cried. 

"  He  swung  around  and  as  he  caught  sight  of 
the  pistol  levelled  at  his  head,  the  purple  slowly 
faded  from  his  face. 

"  Then  seemingly  reassured  at  finding  that  it 
was  only  a  boy  who  confronted  him,  he  took  a 
step  forward. 

"  '  Who  the  devil  are  you?  Get  out  of  here! ' 
he  cried. 

"  '  Stay  where  you  are  or  I  fire.' 

"  '  What  nonsense  is  this?  '  he  blustered,  but  I 
noticed  that  his  knees  shook  and  he  made  no 
further  effort  to  move. 

" '  Climb  out  of  the  window.  There  is  a  car 
waiting  in  the  road,'  I  called  to  the  girl. 

"  '  She  shall  not  go ! '  he  shrieked.  The  veins 
stood  out  on  his  temples. 

"  I  held  him  with  my  eye  and  saw  his  coward 


350  Who  ? 

soul  quiver  with  fear  as  I  moved  deliberately 
nearer  him. 

" '  Do  as  I  tell  you.  Kun  for  your  life,'  I 
repeated. 

"  '  But  you? '  gasped  Lady  Wilmersley. 

"  '  I  have  the  pistol.  I  am  not  afraid.  I  will 
follow  you/  I  assured  her. 

"  I  knew  rather  than  saw  that  she  picked  up 
a  jacket  and  bag  which  lay  near  the  window. 
With  a  soft  thud  she  dropped  into  the  night. 
That  is  the  last  I  saw  of  her.  What  became  of 
her  I  do  not  know."  Amy  paused  a  moment. 

"  As  Lord  Wilmersley  saw  his  wife  disappear, 
he  gave  a  cry  like  a  wounded  animal  and  rushed 
after  her.  I  fired.  He  staggered  back  a  few 
steps,  then  turning  he  ran  into  the  adjoining 
room.  I  heard  a  splash  but  did  not  stop  to 
find  out  what  happened.  Almost  beside  myself 
with  terror,  I  fled  from  the  castle.  If  you 
have  any  more  questions  to  ask,  you  had  better 
hurry." 

She  stopped  abruptly,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot,  and  glanced  wildly  about  her  till  her  eyes 
rested  on  her  husband.  For  a  long,  long  mo- 
ment she  regarded  him  in  silence.  She  seemed 


The  Truth  351 

to  be  gathering  herself  together  for  a  supreme 
effort. 

All  four  men  watched  her  in  breathless 
suspense. 

With  her  eyes  still  fastened  on  Cyril  she 
fumbled  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  then  her  hand 
shot  out,  and  before  any  one  could  prevent  her, 
she  jabbed  a  hypodermic  needle  deep  into  her 
arm. 

"  What  have  you  done?  "  cried  Cyril,  spring- 
ing forward  and  wrenching  the  needle  from  her. 

A  beatific  smile  spread  slowly  over  her  face. 

"  You  are — free,"  she  gasped. 

She  swayed  a  little  and  would  have  fallen  if 
Cyril  had  not  caught  her. 

"  Quick — a  doctor,"  he  cried. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  she  murmured.  "  Too  late ! 
Forgive  me,  Cyril.  I — loved — you — so " 


CHAPTER  XXII 

CAMPBELL  RESIGNS 

UNDER  a  yew  tree,  overlooking  a  wide  lawn, 
bordered  on  the  farther  side  by  a  bank  of  flowers, 
three  people  are  sitting  clustered  around  a  tea- 
table. 

One  of  them  is  a  little  old  lady,  the  dearest 
old  lady  imaginable.  By  her  side,  in  a  low 
basket  chair,  a  girl  is  half  sitting,  half  reclining. 
Her  small  figure,  clad  in  a  simple  black  frock, 
gives  the  impression  of  extreme  youth,  which 
impression  is  heightened  by  the  fact  that  her 
curly,  yellow  hair,  reaching  barely  to  the  nape 
of  her  neck,  is  caught  together  by  a  black  ribbon 
like  a  schoolgirl's.  But  when  one  looks  more 
closely  into  her  pale  face,  one  realises  somehow 
that  she  is  a  woman  and  a  woman  who  has 
suffered — who  still  suffers. 

On  the  ground  facing  the  younger  woman  a 
352 


Campbell  Resigns  353 

red-headed  young  man  in  white  flannels  is 
squatting  tailor-fashion.  He  is  holding  out  an 
empty  cup  to  be  refilled. 

"  Not  another ! "  exclaims  the  little  old  lady 
in  a  horrified  tone.  "  Why,  you  have  had  three 
already ! " 

"  My  dear  Trevie,  let  me  inform  you  once  and 
for  all  that  I  have  abandoned  my  figure.  Why 
should  I  persist  in  the  struggle  now  that  Anita 
refuses  to  smile  on  me?  When  one's  heart  is 
broken,  one  had  better  make  the  most  of  the  few 
pleasures  one  can  still  enjoy.  So  another  cup, 
please." 

Anita  took  no  notice  of  his  sally;  her  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  distant  horizon;  she  seemed 
absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts. 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  Campbell  casually 
as  he  sipped  his  tea,  "  I  spent  last  Sunday  at 
Geralton."  He  watched  Anita  furtively.  A 
faint  flutter  of  the  eyelids  was  the  only  indica- 
tion she  gave  of  having  heard  him,  yet  Guy  was 
convinced  that  she  was  waiting  breathlessly  for 
him  to  continue. 

"  How    is    Lord    W'ilmersley? "    asked    Miss 
Trevor  with  kindly  indifference. 
23 


354  Who  ? 

"  Very  well  indeed.  He  is  doing  a  lot  to  the 
castle.  You  would  hardly  know  it — the  interior, 
I  mean."  Although  he  had  pointedly  addressed 
Anita,  she  made  no  comment.  It  was  only  after 
a  long  silence  that  she  finally  spoke. 

"  And  how  is  Valdriguez?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Much  the  same.  She  plays  all  day  long  with 
the  dolls  Cyril  bought  for  her.  She  seems  quite 
happy." 

Again  they  relapsed  into  silence. 

Miss  Trevor  took  up  her  knitting,  which  had 
been  lying  in  her  lap,  and  was  soon  busy  avoid- 
ing the  pitfalls  a  heel  presents  to  the  unwary. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  for  a  walk,"  said  Anita, 
rising  slowly  from  her  seat.  There  was  a  hint 
of  exasperation  in  her  voice  which  escaped 
neither  of  her  hearers. 

Miss  Trevor  peered  anxiously  over  her  spec- 
tacles at  the  retreating  figure. 

Campbell's  rubicund  countenance  had  grown 
strangely  grave. 

"  No  better?  "  he  asked  as  soon  as  Anita  was 
out  of  earshot. 

Miss  Trevor  shook  her  head  disconsolately. 

"  Worse,  I  think.     I  can't  imagine  what  can 


Campbell  Resigns  355 

be  the  matter  with  her.  She  seemed  at  one  time 
to  have  recovered  from  her  terrible  experience. 
But  now,  as  you  can  see  for  yourself,  she  is 
absolutely  wretched.  She  takes  no  interest  in 
anything.  She  hardly  eats  enough  to  keep  a 
bird  alive.  If  she  goes  on  like  this  much  longer, 
she  will  fret  herself  into  her  grave.  Yet  when- 
ever I  question  her,  she  assures  me  that  she  is 
all  right.  I  really  don't  know  what  I  ought 
to  do." 

"  Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  that  she  may 
be  wondering  why  Wilmersley  has  never  written 
to  her,  nor  been  to  see  her?  " 

"Lord  Wilmersley?  Why— no.  She  hardly 
ever  mentions  him." 

"  She  never  mentions  him,"  corrected  Guy. 
"  She  inquires  after  everybody  at  Geralton  ex- 
cept Cyril.  Doesn't  that  strike  you  as  very 
suspicious?  " 

"  Oh,  you  don't  mean  that " 

He  nodded. 

"  But  she  hardly  knows  him !  You  told  me 
yourself  that  she  had  only  seen  him  three  or 
four  times." 

"  True,  but  you  must  remember  that  they  met 


356  Who  ? 

under  very  romantic  conditions.  And  Cyril  is 
the  sort  of  chap  who  would  be  likely  to  appeal 
to  a  girl's  imagination." 

"  Lady  Wilmersley  in  love !  I  can't  believe 
it !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Trevor. 

"  I  wish  I  did  n't,"  muttered  Guy  under  his 
breath. 

She  heard  him,  however,  and  laid  her  small, 
wrinkled  hand  tenderly  on  his  shoulder. 

"  My  poor  boy,  I  guessed  your  trouble  long 
ago." 

"  Don't  pity  me !  It  does  n't  hurt  any  longer 
— not  much  at  least.  When  one  realises  a  thing 
is  quite  hopeless,  one  somehow  ends  by  adjusting 
oneself  to  the  inevitable.  What  I  feel  for  her 
now  is  more  worship  than  love.  I  want  above 
all  things  that  she  should  be  happy,  and  if  Cyril 
can  make  her  so,  I  would  gladly  speed  his 
wooing." 

"  Do  you  think  he  has  any  thought  of  her?  " 

"  I  am  sure  he  loves  her." 

"  Then  why  has  he  given  no  sign  of  life  all 
these  months?  " 

"  I  fancy  he  is  waiting  for  the  year  of  their 
mourning  to  elapse.  But  I  confess  that  I  am 


Campbell  Resigns  357 

surprised  that  he  has  been  able  to  restrain  his 
impatience  as  long  as  this.  Every  day  I  have 
expected— By  Jove!"  cried  Campbell,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  "  there  he  is  now !  " 

Miss  Trevor  turned  and  saw  a  tall  figure 
emerge  from  the  house. 

Being  plunged  suddenly  into  the  midst  of 
romance,  together  with  the  unexpected  and 
dramatic  arrival  of  the  hero,  was  too  much  for 
the  little  lady's  composure.  Her  bag,  her  knit- 
ting, her  glasses  fell  to  the  ground  unheeded  as 
she  rose  hurriedly  to  receive  Lord  Wilmersley. 

"  So  glad  to  see  you !  Let  me  give  you  a  cup 
of  tea,  or  would  you  prefer  some  whiskey  and 
soda?  "  She  was  so  flustered  that  she  hardly 
knew  what  she  was  saying. 

"  Thanks,  I  won't  take  anything.  Hello,  Guy ! 
You  here?  Rather  fancied  I  might  run  across 
you." 

Cyril's  eyes  strayed  anxiously  hither  and 
thither. 

"  Looking  for  Anita,  are  you?  "  asked  Guy. 

"I?"  Cyril  gave  a  start  of  guilty  surprise. 
"  Yes,  I  was  wondering  where  she  was."  His 
tone  was  excessively  casual. 


358  Who? 

"Humph!"  grunted  Campbell  contemptuously. 

"  She  has  gone  for  a  little  walk,  but  as  she 
never  leaves  the  grounds,  she  can't  be  very  far 
off,"  said  Miss  Trevor. 

"  Perhaps — "  Cyril  hesitated ;  he  was  pain- 
fully embarrassed. 

Guy  came  to  his  rescue. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said.  "  I  will  show  you 
where  you  are  likely  to  find  her." 

"  Thanks !  I  did  rather  want  to  see  her — 
ahem,  on  business !  " 

"  On  business?  Oh,  you  old  humbug!  "  jeered 
Campbell  as  he  sauntered  off. 

For  a  moment  Cyril  glared  at  Guy's  back 
indignantly;  then  mumbling  an  apology  to  Miss 
Trevor,  he  hastened  after  him. 

They  had  gone  only  a  short  distance  before 
they  espied  a  small,  black-robed  figure  coming 
towards  them.  Guy  stopped  short;  he  glanced 
at  Cyril,  but  the  latter  was  no  longer  conscious 
of  his  presence.  Without  a  word  he  turned  and 
hurriedly  retraced  his  footsteps. 

"  Well,  Trevie,"  he  said,  "  I  must  be  going. 
Can't  loaf  forever,  worse  luck ! "  His  manner 
was  quite  ostentatiously  cheerful. 


Campbell  Resigns  359 

Miss  Trevor,  however,  was  not  deceived  by 
it.  "You  are  a  dear,  courageous  boy,"  she 
murmured. 

With  a  flourish  of  his  hat  that  seemed  to 
repudiate  all  sympathy,  Guy  turned  on  his  heel 
and  marched  gallantly  away. 

Meanwhile,  in  another  part  of  the  garden,  a 
very  different  scene  was  being  enacted. 

On  catching  sight  of  each  other  Cyril  and 
Anita  had  both  halted  simultaneously.  Cyril's 
heart  pounded  so  violently  that  he  could  hardly 
hear  himself  think. 

"  I  must  be  calm,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I 
must  be  calm!  But  how  beautiful  she  is!  If 
I  only  had  a  little  more  time  to  collect  my  wits ! 
I  know  I  shall  make  an  ass  of  myself! " 

As  these  thoughts  went  racing  through  his 
brain,  he  had  been  moving  almost  automatically 
forward.  Already  he  could  distinguish  the  soft 
curve  of  her  parted  lips  and  the  colour  of  her 
dilated  eyes. 

A  sudden  panic  seized  him.  He  was  conscious 
of  a  wild  desire  to  fly  from  her  presence;  but  it 
was  too  late.  He  was  face  to  face  with  her. 

For  a  moment  neither  moved,  but  under  the 


360  Who  ? 

insistence  of  his  gaze  her  eyes  slowly  sank  before 
his.  Then,  without  a  word,  as  one  who  merely 
claims  his  own,  he  flung  his  arms  around  her  and 
crushed  her  to  his  heart. 

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